


Be A Man

by Happyritas



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AOU, Age of Ultron, Avengers - Freeform, Black Widow - Freeform, Captain America - Freeform, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Hawkeye - Freeform, Homophobic Language, Iron Man - Freeform, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, M/M, Marvel - Freeform, Mentions/Use of Drugs, Multi, Original Transgender Male Character - Freeform, PTSD Original Character, Physical Abuse, Racial slurs, Racism, Sexual Abuse, Sexual assualt, Substance Abuse, Teenage Homelessness, Underage Prostitution, androphobia, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2018-10-03 09:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 43
Words: 115,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10241777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happyritas/pseuds/Happyritas
Summary: Tyron didn't know what it meant to be a man.He had no interest with playing princesses with the girls his age, and the boys rejected his requests to join their games. He quickly became labeled as the outcast. The gender-confused one.So, he made his own group - his own one-man band - and would find his own way to be truly be a man.- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -I do not own Marvel, Disney does, nor do I own X-Men, Fox does. I do own Tyron and his story.Trigger Warning: several mentions of physical abuse, sexual assault/harassment,  racial slurs, offensive language, and substance abuse. If you are uncomfortable with these subjects, I highly recommend that you do not read this story.





	1. 1 - Be A Hero

**Chapter One** :

Steve Rogers's daily runs were never truly interesting. When he was in Washington, he ran around the Capitol. Now that he was back in New York, he ran from his apartment and around Brooklyn. It was the same route every time, everyday. His house, around his neighborhood and some nearby areas. Then, he'd run to the Brooklyn bridge, maybe Central Park, if the weather was nice. Finally, he'd stop at a small cafe on 6th Avenue and 22nd in the City, then go back home.

Sometimes, he would catch a glimpse of a familiar neighbor, or someone who recognized him and asked for a picture. Other than that, it was completely mundane.

That is, until one day, while he was running, he heard a few sounds of angry grunting. Pausing in his tracks, Steve looked around. The sidewalk was clear, mainly due to the early hours of the day, and that he hadn't been on a particularly nice side of Brooklyn.

Finally, he found the source of the sounds. An alley several feet in front of him. Charily, he stepped forward, taking a short glance in the alley.

There were two grown men standing over a adolescent African-American boy, laughing and kicking him. The boy was curled up, in order to block their blows, but that didn't stop them from stamping on his hand, or kicking other more sensitive places.

Steve stepped in easily, clearing his throat to make hisself known. The two men turned his way, sending harsh glares. One of them, with a cigarette bouncing between his lips spoke, "Th' fuck do ya want?" He jeered, and the other one's lip curled as he spit at his feet.

"I want you to leave him alone," Steve said, stepping closer. They were less than five feet away now. His voice strong and his eyes narrowed. The two men started laughing again.

"Mind ya own damn business," the other snapped, his dark eyes gleaming with danger. His hand dropped to his waist where he pulled out a switchblade.

Seeing the weapon, Steve rose his hands, but didn't move back nor did he more forward. "I don't want to cause any trouble," he told the two calmly. "Just leave him alone, and we'll all be on our way."

The cigarette one scoffed, "Fat chance of tha'!" The one with the knife lunged forward, aiming for his abdomen. Steve side stepped, grabbing his wrist and twisting it behind his back. The knife fell from his hand and the man cried out. This, however, only gave him cause to twist it further.

Finally, the cigarette one saw it fit to join this fight that his friend was so desperately losing. He snapped out his own blade, to charge at him. Steve kicked the man whose had he was twisting in the legs, and pushed him towards the ground. He fell flat, cradling his abused arm to his chest.

Steve caught the man by the wrist, and squeeze his hand until he let out a cry of pain, the knife dropping from his hand. Steve used this opportunity to pull him close while he drew back his arm. In one fluid motion, he punched the man square in the jaw.

The force of the attack left the man reeling, his eyes almost rolling back in his head. His buddy, who had finally gotten off the ground began to run, grabbing his good arm and dragging him away to flee. Soon, the two were out of sight and a safe distance from Steve and the boy.

Steve bent down, to help him up, but the boy swatted his hand away, "Get away from me!" He hissed, his voice coarse. "I don't want ya fuckin' 'elp." He tried to move, but winced, "God, Baron's gonna kill me..."

Steve rose his eyebrows, Baron? He stepped forward, but the kid glared at him, his brown eyes filled with anger. Steve raised his hands in surrender, "I'm not going to hurt you."

The kid grunted, and shakily stood up. He held his hand to his chest, hissing whenever he moved it. "Hey, hey, take it easy. Let me take you to a hospital. There's one fifteen minutes down the street from here, and—"

"I said leave m' _alone_!" He snapped, glaring ferociously at the Steve. Steve blinked, shocked, and the kid took this as a cue to run. Steve chased after him, but when he turned a corner, he disappeared from sight. After a few minutes of looking and finding nothing, Steve gave up. Maybe he would see the kid again later. Or, maybe he was homeless...

Steve sighed, running a hand through his strawberry-blonde hair. He had seen a lot of that since he had came out of the ice. For one, poverty rose tenfold, with it being almost as bad as the depression. Kids, younger than him pre-serum lived on the streets, and the orphan homes — now called ' _Foster Care System_ ' — had gotten somewhat better, somewhat worse.

Steve began to run again, making a mental note to add this area to his running route. Maybe, he would see the kid again, and get him some help. He had more than enough to offer and the kid definitely needed it anyway. Hopefully, the kid wouldn't get himself in any more trouble too.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron slipped his fingers into the middle-aged man's pocket, his hand easily seizing a wallet. In a quick motion, he took the wallet from the man and left. Tyron could tell by the quality of his suit that he was rich. Usually, people like him didn't keep pocket money on them, which nearly made him choose a different target. That is, until he saw the man give a homeless man a five dollar bill.

Tyron retreated to an alley, checking the wallet. Just as he thought, there was at least ten credit cards in it, most of them being made of metal, so Tyron disposed of them easily. He was getting a bit hungry after all, and those always proved to be a good snack. Tyron smirked when he pulled out two twenties and a ten dollar bill. Satisfied with the fifty dollars filling his pocket, he walked back out into the street. He still had a bit of daylight, but the clouds had been getting heavy. He would need sixty dollars to get back home, since Willy let him in the night before, even though he only had forty.

So, he continued down the street, easily spotting a preoccupied mother who had three children on leashes. Tyron's lip curled in disgust. People treating their kids like animals always made him upset. He supposed it was only karma that was coming to her. He shoved past the woman, trading wallets with the man he stole before, and hurried down the street. When he heard no shouts of anger, he allowed himself to chuckle.

Checking the wallet, he found twenty dollars, and a handful of dollar bills. Tyron shoved those into his pocket, and got rid of the plastic credit cards. He couldn't do anything with those after all.

Tyron tossed the wallet, running to be the daylight so he could get home.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron met Willy at the junkyard entrance. He was leaning back in his chair, watching a video on his phone, however he turned it off when he noticed Tyron approaching. "You got'cha fee?" He grunted, the dim light that illuminated above him provided little to actually see the man. However, Tyron didn't need it. Willy was a 6'4" black man who wasn't afraid to throw punches with anyone if they bothered him. Tyron knew from experience.

"Yeah," Tyron replied nonchalantly, going through his pocket and fishing out the money he had made. Originally, it was a hundred, but those two guys who Baron sent him after took his forty bucks, leaving him with nothing.

He handed Willy the money, who fingered through it for a moment before nodding and opening the doors. The metal door creaked in its rusty hinges as it slowly turned and allowed him little room to squeeze through. Tyron didn't complain. It had been a long day, and his wrist was throbbing. The only thing he wanted to do was eat, then sleep.

Hopefully, Baron would think that he finished his job, and leave him for the night. He would rather deal with him in the morning, or better yet, never.

Tyron found his spot, the smell of oil and metal was a sweet aroma to his nose. It smelled like home, and he loved it.

His 'house' consisted of a few metal sheets that he had haphazardly duck taped, creating somewhat of walls and a door for privacy. The inside was bare, since he saw no real need to put anything up for decoration.

Tyron spotted a aluminum bar as he walked, and yanked it out from under the pile of metal. After examining it for any signs of rust, he was pleased to find none, and easily bit into the bar. He cleanly tore a part off as if it had been beef jerky, and consumed it. He liked aluminum, it was one of his favourite metals. Always left somewhat of a spicy aftertaste.

As he was halfway through his metal meal, he heard laughing behind him. Turning he spotted Weed, one of his few friends. He was laughing with one of the other members of the junkyard, DeAndre. "I tol' ya he'd do it!" Weed wheezed, having to support himself with his knees in order to keep standing.

"That's so fuckin' mental, man," DeAndre scoffed. "What the hell are you? A _mutant_?" Tyron froze, then sent a glare at the duo, but mainly towards Weed, who was still laughing.

"I tol' ya to not tell no one anymore, Weed!" Tyron snapped, marching over to the man. At the sound of Tyron's angry voice, he brought his laughing to a few chuckles, occasionally a cough, and looked at him.

Weed was one of the few white guys in the junkyard. His was skinny, and his head shaven bald, but he had a growing gray mustache and stubbly beard and his face long. His nose was long and pointy, and his eyes gray and red-rimmed from probably smoking too much. In between his lips was a joint that was half lit, and dying out. His hands were shoved into his pockets and he leaned back. He was quite stupid, and Tyron knew. Several times, he had tricked him into giving him a joint, or some coke for free, or for half the price he usually sold it for.

"Ah, don't be a buzzkill! We just lookin' for some fun," Weed assured him.

"I'm not jus' some kinda entertainment for whenever ya git bored," Tyron glared, turning to walk away from the men. Although his body language was angry, he kept a smirk on his face. Weed was a softie and enjoyed Tyron's presence and been relied too much on Tyron. Whenever he turned his back on Weed, he always had he same reaction.

"Ah, nah, Ty, don't be like dat!" Weed exclaimed, coming up to him. He draped an arm over his shoulders, and fudged something out of his pockets. "'Ere, now why don't'cha hush on up an' enjoy a joint, hmm?"

Tyron tried to hide his obvious smirk as he continued. "Well then, fine," he folded. "But don't be bringin' nobody else over 'ere, got it!?" Weed nodded, offering Tyron a lighter, and he lit his joint.

Tyron waved Weed away, picking up a bit more scrap metal, and heading into his little home. The metal shack was peaceful as he smoked and ate to himself, and then soon, called it a night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I started yet another story without finishing anything, I can't help it, blah blah blah.
> 
> Now that we're done with that, OMG! This story idea has been on my mind for a while! I've really been wanting to write for a transgender character for a long time now. I didn't know whether I wanted them to be for Undertale or Doctor Who, et cetera, but after I finished Free-Falling, I realized how much I missed writing for it. Like, I couldn't even last an hour lol. (RIP Three)
> 
> So, I came up with this~! Not only do I need more experience writing for male characters, but I also wanted to write for AoU and CA:CW. I actually contemplated it for Three — by subbing Bucky with Bruce, or maybe Steve — but then I decided to go with my own plot instead.
> 
> So... Here we are! I'll probably have a few chapters of background before diving into it. I also decided to write an outline for him too, something I don't normally do. And on top of that, I also have chapters that I've pre-written for BAM too. This story will be updated once every two weeks, on Saturdays.
> 
> Hopefully, I can get my other stories to follow a schedule like this one as well, that way, I can actually have consistent writing, and more to show you guys on a weekly basis. However, in order to do so, I might have to go on hiatus, get a bunch of chapters pre-written for each story and then come back with them.
> 
> Don't worry, I probably won't do that until the summer, and if I do, I'll definitely tell y'all in advance.
> 
> Welp, that's all I have to say for now. Until next time, my little Ice Pops, and remember...
> 
> Don't melt~!  
> ~ Happyritas


	2. 2 - Be A Thief

**Chapter Two** :

Steve didn't tell anyone of his strange encounter with the adolescent, and tried to keep an eye out for him as he's running. The sky was a bit overcast, and they were due for rain around noon, but that didn't stop him form going on his daily run. As he was running, he suddenly bumped his toe on a leveled piece of ground.

Steve went flying, his jaw slamming into the concrete, and his hands skinned, and began to bleed slightly. In all his confusion, a young boy stepped up to help him.

"Are ya okay, sir!?" He exclaimed with a strangely southern accent. His hands were flying everywhere, picking up the things he had dropped, and place it in front of him. "Damn, ya must really be hurtin' righ' now, aren't ya, sir! Well, dats the las' of it, sir, and I gotta git going. Goodbye, sir!" The young adolescent gave him a nod and then hurried off into the crowds of people.

Steve slowly stood, checking his belongings. A picture of Peggy, his phone — that now had cracks embedding into the screen —, his list of things he needed to watch/read in order to catch up with society, and...

Steve paused, checking his pockets again. He was missing his wallet! Steve searched the ground to see if it had been kicked somewhere, but found nothing of the sort.

Finally, it dawned on him. That kid _stole_ his wallet!

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron sat on a bench far away from the man he took the wallet from. Unlike most of the wallets he had stolen, this one didn't have any credit cards in it. In fact, the only thing that was a hundred-twenty dollars in twenty dollar bills. Tyron grinned at his catch, this was enough to get him two full nights in the 'Yard!

Extremely pleased with him catch, he pocketed the money and checked the I.D. on it. _Steven Rogers_. Tyron squinted at the name and the face. He remembered seeing that name back in school. He was one of those Avengers that helped destroy the city!

Tyron's lips curled in disgust and he glared at the wallet, shoving it in the trash can beside him. This, like much of the rest of his catches, was karma, and although this probably wouldn't harm him much, it certainly helped Tyron. Besides, if ' _Steve Rogers_ ' was one of the Avengers, then he had to be friends with Stark, and Stark was _rich_. At least, from what he had seen from TV. If he had enough money to make those flying metal suits, he would had enough to let ' _Steve_ ' borrow some money.

Tyron smirked, proud of his conclusion and began to roam New York City. He had decided to come to the City that morning, and although he dreaded the nearly two-hour walk, he had to admit that it was definitely paying off. Besides, Baron would hear that he didn't finish his job soon, and he needed someway to pay him off. Or, at least have some money to have a way to get another place in the future, and to get food. He needed to eat too, and there had only been a handful of 'Yards like the one Baron ran in the area, where he could get to on foot that is.

Tyron sighed, but stood again. His wrist had began throb again, and he didn't have the supplies, or the knowledge, to fix it. His chest hurt too, but he decided that he could live with that. Tyron decided to look for one more target before calling it a day.

He found a younger man with dark hair his eyes focused on the egg muffin. He was eating and his phone. It took him less than a minute to relieve him of his wallet and walk on, however, his efforts were in vain when he found the wallet practically empty.

Tyron scowled, checking his cards, only to find them plastic too! Tyron huffed, tossing the entire thing away. What a waste! He decided to just head over to Central Park and take a break. There would be more people out around noon anyway.

He stepped into a shop, requesting a pen and snatching a few of their napkins, and left. He made his way to the park and sat down in a rather secluded area on a bench. He began to doodle silently on the napkins, and occasionally being wary to check the time. Much to his surprise it began to drizzle. "Shit!" He swore, gathering what little he had and began to hurry. In minutes, it was pouring rain. Roadside vendors were selling plastic ponchos and people began putting up umbrellas or slipping on raincoats.

Tyron ran his hands over his wet hair, and he swore under his breath again. The rain just made it that much harder to pick people, since they were literally covered from head to toe. Not to mention, his wrist was still sprained. Even if he was careful, it would be way too hard to pick anyone.

He still had to try. If he didn't bring anything to Baron, he was dead, plain and simple. Even if he gave him all the money he got from that Avenger guy earlier, and the savings that he had managed to keep, it _still_ wouldn't be enough!

Tyron tried carefully to pick whoever he could, whether it was his tripping strategy, or simply stealing their bags, it was in vain. The most he had made from the lunch and afternoon was barely twenty dollars, excluding his money from earlier.

Sighing in disappointment, Tyron began his trek to the 'Yard. He might as well go back to grab his savings. Maybe he could skip town, or go down to the Bronx and get a place. Wouldn't be nearly as good as the 'Yard was, but he could try.

With this semi-depressing thought, Tyron headed back home.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

As soon as Tyron stepped up to Willy's booth in front of the man looked up. When his dark eyes met Tyron's he stood and stepped out of his booth. Tyron tried to take a step back, but someone grabbed his upper arm. Tyron jumped, seeing one of Baron's men glaring down at him. "Boss want to see you," he grumbled, his voice low and sent chills down his spine.

Tyron glared back at the man. He wanted to try to pry his fingers away from him, but the man was holding unto his good arm, leaving him with his sprained wrist. If he tried to move his fingers, it would only make his wrist worse. So, he stopped fighting him, and allowed himself to be dragged towards Baron's ' _office_ '.

Baron's office was a room adjacent to the control center of the scrapyard. It was rather spacious, and always smelled of weed, cocaine, or cigarette smoke — a combination of things that didn't really make the best candles. The room was usually half lit, or only lit by the candles that lined the rooms, but this time, it was very bright. The walls were painted red and peeling in some areas. There was a long table on the other side of the room that held several bottles of liquor.

Baron sat on a leather chair, a half dressed slut on his lap. He wore black suit with a red tie. There were two of his men behind him, making four men in the room in all. The woman on his lap turned to see Tyron and her unnaturally big painted red lips curled into a pout. She twisted to whisper something in his ear, and a second later, she was standing, her long heeled shoes clicking against the ground as she grabbed her coat and quickly exited in a door leading to the other room. This left Tyron with four men three times bigger than hisself.

"Tyler," Baron spoke, digging into his pocket.

"It's Tyron," Tyron corrected, but Baron didn't listen.

"I gave you one job, a _simple_ job," he continued, finally fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and a lighter. He light the cigarette and took a drag. "One job," he repeated. "All I asked was that you would take out those two assholes. Thought since you were a mutant freak, it wouldn't be too hard. Turns out I was wrong."

"They jumped me. Knew I was comin'," Tyron began, trying to defend himself, but Baron rose a hand.

"I brought you here, let you do whatever weird shit mutant fucktards like you do. Didn't even say nothin' about you being a fag, and this is how you _repay me_ , boy?" Baron's voice teetered on rage and Tyron had to force himself not to step back.

"It wasn't my fault!" Tyron said, raising his voice, and Baron rose an eyebrow at him.

"Tell me, whose fault was it then?"

Tyron froze, his eyes darting to the fake wood flooring. "I... Uh—" How was he supposed to tell Baron that Captain America stopped him from completing his job!? Would he even believe him if he told him what really happened?

" _Exactly_ ," Baron glared, "And you know what happens to shitty mutant freaks like you who are unable to follow simple commands?" Tyron's mouth went dry, unable to answer, so Baron continued. "They get put down."

He gave the man standing behind Tyron a slight nod, and he plunged his fist into his gut. Tyron gasped, oxygen escaping his lungs as he sank to his knees, holding his stomach. Baron stood, striding over to Tyron and bent down in front of him. "Do you want to go back to being my little whore?" Tyron glared, his brown eyes full of fury. "Is that a yes?"

"Fuck you," he spat. "You can keep your fuckin' STDs to ya own self." Baron's face twisted into anger, and he grabbed Tyron's chin, squeezing his face. Tyron ignored the pain of his fingers sinking into flesh.

"I guess I'll just have to have a little fun with you then," he remarked, motioning to the man behind him. He grabbed his sprained wrist and yanked it behind him. Tyron cried out, pulling his arm away and holding his wrist to his chest. This interested Baron and he grinned, showing his yellow, crooked teeth and releasing his rancid alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke breath.

"Let's dance," he said, playfully bouncing on the balls of his feet and raising his fist that were decorated with several probably really expensive rings.

Finally, Baron swung at him, his fist with several rings on it collided with Tyron's jaw, he hissed, but couldn't help a laugh as he easily absorbed the metal as soon as it made contact with his skin. Baron quickly noticed the bareness of his knuckles and glared at Tyron. "Bitch!" He snapped, "What the fuck did you—"

Tyron's fingernails turned into claws and he used it to scratch at the man behind him, creating deep lacerations on his side. He grunted as his side began to bleed, his grip on Tyron's hand loosening enough for him to slip his hands out. Tyron ran back to the door, but the other men was faster.

They grabbed him by his hoodie, yanking him back then throwing him on the ground. The other one slammed the heel of his boot on Tyron's sprained hand. He could hear and feel the bone breaking and he screamed in agony. Then, he moved his shoe to his other had, destroying his fingers. Tears bit at his eyes, and he curled up, holding his hands to his chest.

The man that he had cut with his claws yanked him up by his shirt, lifting him so Baron could see. Tyron didn't look at him. He was too busy trying not to scream in pain from his fingers. "Don't forget, Timmy, you're merely a _pet_ , which means that you can, and _will_ , be put down." Baron patted the side of Tyron's face, "Nice talk." Then, he turned to the men who were standing around Tyron. "Give him a lesson so that he can learn next time." With that command, he left the room, entering the same door the slut from earlier did.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron could barely move without hurting something once Baron's men finished with him. He tried to fight back, but with his broken wrist, and now broken fingers, it was useless. So, he took the beatings, and when they stripped him of his clothes, he didn't care. When they took the small amount of money that he had left, he didn't shed a tear. And, when they all violated him until he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, he didn't make a sound.

These men, were the scum of the earth, and Tyron refused to give them the satisfaction of his tears or his cries or pleading for mercy. Even when he wanted to curl up and sob into his knees, he refused to allow a tear to slip past his cheeks. Crying was a sign of weakness, and he refused to be seen as weak in front of them.

Finally, they finished and went back to drinking or smoking. In the early hours of the morning, all three of the men were unconscious and hungover. With much effort, Tyron was able to redress himself. He was even able to redo the old ace-bandage bindings on his chest, which took nearly a half hour in itself.

Once he was fully dressed, Tyron limped out the door, leaving the 'Yard for good.


	3. 3 - Be A Survivor

**Chapter Three:**

Tyron had began to feel the effects of hunger on his second day of being homeless again. He was forced to leave Brooklyn, he knew Baron had too many connections there. So, he went to the City instead, spending the night on benches and in front of subway entrances. He had stolen a pack of bandages from a CVS, and wrapped up his fingers and wrist to the best of his ability. It still hurt, of course, but now it didn't hurt too much when he moved it so he didn't complain.

With his lack of money and empathy from people as they walked down the street, ignoring him, he decided that it would be better for him if he just stayed in the park. Not to mention that he had the misfortune of  having to leave the same week that had decided to rain the entire week.

A little bit of water was fine for him, but when it was raining buckets like it was now, it could be potentially dangerous. If he got too 'rusty' then he could get pretty sick, and he didn't have the resources to treat himself if this happened. Along with headaches, his 'rust'-sickness usually came with, stomach bugs, lightheadedness, coughing, and on occasion, delusions and fainting.

He remembered getting 'rusty' the first time, back in his early days of homelessness. He couldn't have seen a doctor, and was forced to just lay down, fading in and out delusions, and sleeping. With nobody behind the to keep him accountable, the only thing that was keeping him alive was himself. Luckily, the rain had stopped just before it had gotten too serious, and Tyron was able to get dry again.

Now, he didn't have that, and was forced to spend his day sleeping on park benches and on street corners. He tried his best to stay dry, stepping into stores to warm up, but whenever he tried, they would always have this policy that if he wasn't buying something, then he wasn't allowed to stay. Since Tyron had no money, he was usually always forced out into the heavy rain.

In the morning of his fourth day, he was beginning to feel the effects of getting 'rusty' and starvation. He finally decided to go to a small cafe on 6th and 22nd, with the hopes of being able to find something to eat.

Like most cafés, this one was filled with people sitting in booths waiting to be served, or loitering underneath the shop's small hood.

Tyron slowly stepped inside. The scent of coffee beans and sweet pasties filling his nose, and he gagged a bit, trying to hide his look of disgust. "Welcome to Coffee Rush Cafe!" Piped a young black woman behind the counter. Her hair was in braids and tied up behind her, and her face caked lightly with makeup that complimented her features.

The cafe itself wasn't that spacious, but most of the people there were opting to stand opposed to sitting in the café's booths. Then again, it was still very early and nobody wanted to get up with the rain like this.

Tyron stepped forward, glancing at the tables and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw their metal utensils. "I... Uhm..." He stammered, having to physically draw his eyes away from the utensils to look at the girl. "I... Can I 'ave the, uh..." He bit his lip looking up at the sign above the girl that showed all the things they sold in the shop. Opting for the cheapest thing, he finally said, "The... Small 'ot chocolate, please...?"

The woman nodded, tapping into the screen in front of her, "Will that be all?"

"Ye–Yeah."

"Okay... That'll be $4.24," Tyron grimaced at his total and began to check his pockets. Maybe, they had left something that he could use for money. It might be soggy and wet but—

The door opened, and Tyron regretted looking towards it instantly. Steve Rogers stood at the door, his coat that he wore was soaked to the bone, so he took it off and wrung it out outside. Tyron's heart sped as he turned back around, and he quickly focused his gaze on the ground. He _had_ to get out of here. He didn't trust this Steve guy, and if he recognized him from when he stole from him... He would be in a lot of trouble.

He tried to remember all the entrances and exits to the room. There had been a door leading to behind the counter. But that most likely didn't lead to a back door. The only other one that he knew of was the main entrance, and if he just ran for it, Rogers would see. Besides, he knew that if he spent more than ten more minutes out in the rain, especially if he was still wet like he was now, he'd collapse and be vulnerable to anyone. If Baron had connections in the City too, which he probably did, he could have him back at the 'Yard in no time.

A hand set on Tyron's shoulder and he physically jumped, his eyes widening, "Sorry," Rogers said from behind him. "She was trying to get your attention and you didn't complete your order."

"I–I... Yeah, sorry, I, uhm," Tyron said, stumbling over his words.

"You know what? Don't worry about it, kid, I got it." Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to the lady. "I'll just have my usual, Talia."

The woman, Talia, beamed, "Of course, Mr. Rogers."

"I told you," Steve chucked. " _Just_ Steve."

"And I told you, _Mr_. Rogers," Talia began, putting emphasis on his title. "' _Mama didn't raise no fool_ '." Steve laughed at the woman's words. Even Tyron let out a nervous chuckle in all his inner hysteria. "Now go on, I got you," she said, shooing him away to take the next customer.

Tyron quickly hurried to sit down at one of the booths, picking up a preset fork and slowly gnawing on it, his long sleeves concealing his hand. He had to be careful. Since his fingers on his other hand were most likely broken, he had to use his broken wrist to eat. However, every time he made the smallest movements with his wrist, it would burn in pain, probably making his injury worse. Tyron's stomach rumbled at his extremely slow eating, but he knew that he would draw attention if he tried to shove it in his mouth.

Steve, who had been exchanging a few words with the cashier as she put down another order, finally left and looked for a place to sit as well. His eyes fell were Tyron sat and he quickly strode over. Tyron's eyes were fixed on the table, his hoodie pulled down enough to cover his nose.

Steve slid into the booth beside him, "I'm Steve, Steve Rogers," he introduced himself, holding out his hand to shake, but Tyron didn't over his own.

Instead, he just said, "Tyron." Steve frowned slightly, trying to peek underneath his hoodie, but Tyron simply ducked his head.

"Sorry," Steve apologized, realizing that he made the boy uncomfortable. "Your voice... It reminded me of someone." Tyron didn't have an answer to that, so Steve continued. "If you don't mind me asking, shouldn't you be in school?"

"... No," Tyron grunted as a blonde lady with her hair tied in a bun set their food down in the table. The hot chocolate was steaming, but Tyron didn't make any movements to touch it. Steve had a black coffee and began gingerly sipping it. When he noticed that Tyron wasn't drinking his beverage, he set his cup down.

"Are you hungry? I can get you something to eat too if you want," Steve offered, but Tyron shook his head, no. "You sure? You look pretty hungry..."

"M'fine," Tyron said firmly, with slight hostility towards he man.

Steve took notice of his discomfort, and tried something else. "Do your parents know where you are? I'm sure they're worried, and it's not the best weather to be walking the streets alone."

Tyron's grip on the fork tightened at the mention of his parents, but he had to release it just as quickly because of his wrist. Steve took notice of this, and continued talking. "Do you need a phone to call them? Or, do you have any siblings who can pick you up? You can use my phone if you need to—"

"No!" He snapped, and Steve went silent, allowing the teenager to talk. "Why th' fuck do ya care anyway? It's none of ya business, just leave me alone!"

Steve blinked, his eyes narrowed at the boy, a look of shock and recognition on his face. "You're... That kid from the alley, aren't you?" Tyron froze, his eyes widening, and his head lifting just enough so Steve could see his eyes and face.

There were bruises still littering his skin, but most of the swelling had gone down, and there was a cut on the side of his face. The cut was from that morning when he and a older man got into a argument over a bench that he was obviously using. The man had whipped out a knife on him, giving him the cut on his face, so Tyron decided to swallow his pride and let the man have the bench, opting for concrete a few blocks away instead.

Tyron stood, his legs hitting the table as he struggled to get out of the booth. Steve noticed his panic and grabbed his wrist, that was broken, in a attempt to stop him. Tyron hissed, yanking his hand away, his sleeves falling to reveal the ace bandage covering his wrist and his finger. "Wait—"

"Leave m'alone!" Tyron snapped, backing away from the man. Steve jumped up too, holding his hands out to reassure him.

"You _need_ to go to a hospital. Your wrist is probably in really bad shape. I can take you there to help you and—" Tyron rapidly shook his head, glancing around the room. All the employees were staring at him and Steve, along with a few of the customers as well. One had even began recording it, his eyes full of curiosity.

Tyron began to feel corners as he slowly backed towards the door. His hand felt the handle, and he opened it and stumbled outside. Tyron turned, noticing the pouring rain around him. It was too dangerous to get any more rusty than he already was, but if he stayed in the café with that Avenger, his fate could be much worse.

"Wait, please!" Steve called after him, but it was far too late and Tyron had dashed away, disappearing down the rain-slicked streets.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Steve knew that chasing after the boy would be in vain. In seconds, he had was veiled by the heavy rain, and disappeared around the corner. Steve sighed, stepping back inside the café, the had slowly began to return to its normal volume, but stopped when he felt something underneath his shoe.

Bending down, he found the fork Tyron had been gnawing on. Well, at least, he believed it to be a fork because it was missing the points and had been reduced to half its originally size, and now useless. Steve picked it up and stared at it. Tyron couldn't possibly have been able to do this... Could he?

Quickly, Steve went back to grab his coat, chasing after the boy. Something told him that he needed help, and Steve was the one to give it.


	4. 4 - Be A Tinker

**Chapter Four** :

Tyron was beginning to feel the effects of getting rusty quickly. He had managed to last quite a while. Or at least he believed he did, he didn't keep track of the time.

In Tyron's haze-filled brain, he decided to go back to his bench. Maybe he could sleep underneath it. Baron wouldn't be looking under benches, so he should be fine.

The streets didn't seem to crowded, and all the people walking by him began to blur past, their face unrecognizable. Were they going home? Maybe they were as tired as he was. He was really tired. A quick nap would help keep him awake. Tyron's eyes sank closed his body sagging. He was almost completely asleep until he bumped shoulders with someone.

Tyron snapped up, and began walking again, his shoulders tense. He couldn't go to sleep. He couldn't go to sleep. Baron would find him and kill him. Tyron continued to wak, gaining a small bit of speed now, but he quickly lost his boost, and was sluggishly dragging himself.

He couldn't do it. He was too tired, too hungry. He needed to sleep. Tyron's eyes closed and he fainted in the middle of the sidewalk.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Steve ran against the masses of people that were walking down the sidewalk. His eyes darting back and forth for any sign of Tyron, but finding none of the sort. A small negative part of his brain nagged that he was already long gone and there was nothing he could do for him, but Steve ignored it. He was an Avenger, a _hero_ , meaning he helped everyone, including people like Tyron.

Steve heard shouting and whipped his head around. On the other side of the street, there was a woman freaking out, and a person lying on the ground. After a bit of inspection, Steve recognized the black hoodie.

Steve bolted across the street, trying desperately not to get hit by a speeding car, as he came up to him. There was a crowd gathering around him now, but Steve pushed past them. "I have medical training!" He lied as the crow parted. Some of them noticed him being Captain America and pulled out their phones, but everyone else was pretty focused on Tyron.

Steve check for a pulse, and felt relieved to find one. Then, he placed an ear to his chest, he was breathing shallowly, but still alive. Steve scooped the boy up, slightly surprised at how light he was, and pulled out his phone. He called Tony as he ran.

The scientist picked up on the second ring, " _Hey Capsicle. It's been a while_ ," Tony mused.

"Where are you?" Steve demanded as he ran down the street.

" _The Tower. Pepper's making me do some boring paperwork_ ," Tony said, with a childish groan.

"Tell Banner to get the infirmary ready," He told the man on the other end.

" _Why? Is something interesting_ _happening_?"

"Just do it!" Steve snapped, hanging up the phone and running faster. He glanced down at Tyron, who's face was scrunched up in pain. He silently promised to make sure he would get Tyron got the help he needed before racing towards the Tower.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

The first thing Tyron noticed when he woke up was how warm he was. It shocked him a bit when he realized how long it had been since he had actually felt warm. Sighing in content, he sank into the blankets that surrounded him, not wanting to wake up.

Soon, however, the sound of repetitive beeping annoyed him to no end and he peeked his eyes open, irritably. Tyron squinted as his eyes adjusted to the lights, and examined the room. The room was rather spacious and held a lot of huge metal equipments that he didn't recognize. However, the sight of metal made his mouth water, but he resisted, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The room smelled of sterilization and cough syrup, which he thought was a bit strange, but didn't argue with it. It was also strangely silent, excluding the whirring of the machines and the continuous beeping of the heart rate monitor.

Tyron looked down at his hands, noticing that they had been properly bandaged. He could even feel a bandage on his cheek where Baron punched him. And, he was missing his sweatshirt. Tyron almost began to panic, but he sagged with relief when he felt the bandages on his chest still in place.

Tyron heard the door open, and then a man stepped out. He had brown hair that was styled nicely and matching eyes. He had a cleanly shaven mustache and a triangular goatee underneath. He wore a simple Star Wars t-shirt that described the different parts of the Death Star, and jeans. It didn't take a genius to know who this man was. His face was plastered on every electronic billboard in the city.

Tony Stark's thin lips were pulled into a smirk as he began to talk, "Hey, Sleeping Beauty."

Tyron glared at him, sitting up. He could feel the dull pain in his ribs still and was surprised they hadn't fixed that yet. "Where th' 'ell am I?"

Stark rose an eyebrow at his hostility, probably not expecting that reaction. " _Relax_. You're in the Avengers Tower. Steve brought you in while you were unconscious. He's waiting to see you, actually—"

"I don't wanna see 'im!" He snapped, "I don't wanna see no one!"

"Well that's not an option," Stark replied, crossing his arms. "If you're gonna be crabby like that then I won't bring him in. But," he moved to open the door and a cart of food that was being pushed by one of his signature metal suits came in. Tyron's eyes widened and his heart leapt. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he stared at the suit.

"You like it? One of my originals," Stark boasted proudly. The suit stood beside his bed, and set a tray down on his lap. Then, it took off the metal lids, revealing steaming hot food. Tyron reeled, his eyes narrowing, but Stark didn't seem to notice since he was too busy talking about his suit.

The tray had a few metal utensils, but that was it. Tyron's stomach growled, and he couldn't help a sigh, and looked at the suit, which was now pushing the cart out of the room. "... Anyways," Stark finally said, smirking at him. "Doc says that you need to eat all of that before he comes back in the check on you. If you need anything, just ask JARVIS. See ya, kid," Tony turned on his heel and left the room.

Tyron stared at the food, getting the sudden urge to simply throw it all at the wall, but he controlled himself. Tyron picked up the fork, inspecting it, before gnawing on it slowly. He didn't know if they had cameras in here, and with so much tension towards mutants and humans, he didn't want to be turned in either. His stomach rumbled so painfully, that Tyron winced. He sat back and sighed, trying to think of a plan to escape.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

An hour or so later, Stark returned, but this time he brought a buddy. Tyron couldn't help but feel tense. If there were two of them, they easily outnumbered him and could hurt him more. Besides, Stark had his suits, so technically, he could out number him at any moment, if he wanted to.

Stark's friend introduced himself as 'Doctor Bruce Banner'. It took him a second to recognize the name. "You're th' guy tha' trashed 'Arlem," Tyron finally said, and Bruce winced.

"Yeah, uh... Sorry about that..." He muttered, pulling his equipment beside Tyron. He shrugged, not wanting to tell him that during that time, he had been homeless and almost died. It didn't seem like the right time. "Anyways, I just want to check your hands, and make sure they're healing properly," Bruce told him, and Tyron gave him a wary nod.

As Bruce undid the bandages on his hand, Tony spoke up. "You didn't even touch your food," He noted, pointing a finger at the now cold eggs, sausages, and bacon.

"Wasn't 'ungry," Tyron replied.

Bruce gave him a look, "You need to eat something," he scolded.

Tyron sucked his teeth and turned away, "I wasn't 'ungry."

"What? Are you _anorexic_ or something?" Tony asked, his tone joking, but Bruce sent him an angry glare.

"That's not something to joke about, Tony," he told him firmly. "Anorexia is a serious mental disorder."

"It was just a question!" Tony defended, and Tyron sent him a glare.

"It wa' a stupid one," he muttered.

"That doesn't explain why you're not eating anything," Tony replied, turning the argument back on Tyron.

"M'not 'ungry," Tyron told them firmly.

"Even if you weren't feeling hungry, you still look a bit malnourished," Bruce told him, rewrapping his hand. "You _need_ to eat something."

" _No_ ," Tyron told him, now annoyed.

"Why not?"

"Because I _can't_."

"Can't _what_?" Tony scoffed, "Can't _eat_?"

" _Yes_!" He covered his face with his newly bandaged hand, and let out a small sigh. "... I don't want to eat righ' now." He told them, as somewhat of an apology for raising his voice.

Bruce and Tony exchanged looks, "Fine," Tony replied. "Won't make you eat." He tapped something on his watch, and the metal suit came in again. Tyron tried not to react as the robotic suit came to take the tray away, but as it got closer, he couldn't help staring at it. Then, his stomach rumbled loud enough for both adults to hear, and Tony barked a laugh.

"Knew you were hungry," He smirked, and commanded the suit to wheel the cart back towards him, and even set it on the bed he laid in. It's shiny cold arm brushed against his hand and Tyron had to force himself to look away.

"M'not 'ungry," he snapped, glaring at the floor. Tony huffs an annoyed sigh, and has the suit pick up the tray and put it back on the pushcart. Again, it's arm touches Tyron and his stomach rumbled again. Tensing, he focused on the folds of his blankets, trying not to make eye contact. Yet, he couldn't help sneaking a glance at the metal suit that was packed with so many delicious layers of metal. He couldn't help but wonder if the paint made the suit taste spicier, or sweeter. The thought of a spicy, clean strip of metal made him physically drool.

Tony and Bruce stared at the teenager, who didn't seem to notice. Finally, the metal suit left, and Tyron tore his eyes away and stared at the bed again, slowly exhaling. "I'll... Be right back," Bruce announced, and walked out of the room.

A minute later, he came back with a butterknife in his hand. He tossed it towards Tyron, landing in his lap. Tyron picked it up and looking at Bruce, slightly confused. "You're hungry, right?"

"What is he supposed to eat with a butterknife?" Tony asked with a scoff. After a few moments of hesitation, Tyron sighed and easily ate the sterling silver knife. "Holy shit!" Tony exclaimed, staring at Tyron as he finished.

"When I took a blood sample earlier, I saw that you had extremely high levels of iron. High enough that you shouldn't even be _alive_ ," Bruce chuckled, "Eating metal explains it."

"Dude!" Tony said, still in shock, "How are you even able to digest that!? You should be _dead_."

Tyron shrugged, feeling his ears warm up from embarrassment, "I dunno. I just found out tha' I could one day."

"Why can't you eat food then?" Tony asked, frowning slightly.

"Makes me sick," he admitted sheepishly.

"God..." Tony muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Talk about having an iron stomach." The room was silent for a second, and Tyron sniggered.

"Idiot," Bruce muttered, rolling his eyes.

"You have to admit that was funny," Tony said with a stupid grin, poking at Bruce. "Just say it."

"I'm not because it wasn't," Bruce told him, annoyed.

"Don't be a hardass," Tony pouted, "Metalhead already got that covered."

"' _Metalhead_ '?" Tyron repeated with an air of distaste.

"For the time being," Tony replied with a coy grin.

"Getting back on track," Bruce spoke, sending a pointed look towards Stark. "Tony can bring you something that you can eat. Make sure you eat all of it too. Tomorrow, we can discuss where we wanna go from here." Tyron gave a slight nod, happy at the prospect of finally getting something to eat.

Bruce and Tony said their goodbyes and left the room. Minutes later, a cart full of scrap metal rolled in, and pushed by the same suit. Tyron stared hungrily at it and didn't hesitate to dig in as soon as the cart stopped. In no less than ten minutes, Tyron was feeling more full than he had felt in his life.

He sighed in content, leaning back in his bed. He still hadn't fully recovered from his 'rustiness', and decided to close his eyes and sleep.


	5. 5 - Be A Chef

**Chapter Five:**

_His wrists and ankles were strapped helplessly to the corners of the bed. Tyron struggled against them, pulling and yanking, but it hardly helped._

_The door opened, and two men stepped in, one a stranger, the other Baron. "She's a bit of a wild one, but give 'er a few pounds and she'll settle down. Keep anything that's metal away from 'er, if ya wanna keep ya dick to yourself," Baron instructed, a cigarette bouncing between his teeth. The other man laughed at his last statement, somehow finding that funny. "Ya got four hours."_

_The other man grinned, his teeth white and straight, yet it made him seem like some kind of shark. Tyron's chest heaved and he glared at the man, "S'all I need," the stranger said, and Baron took that as his notice to leave, and closed the door behind him._

_Tyron stared at the man, as he slowly unclothed himself in front of him. A sick feeling formed in his gut and he forced his eyes closed as the man climbed over him, his stale breath intoxicating the air as he leaned down to his ear. "Scream nice 'nd loud for me, m'kay?" He breathed, sending shivers down Tyron's spine._

_He tried to jerk his head away from the man, but he only grabbed his chin, and promptly backhanded him. Tyron winced, it wasn't as hard as it should have been if he wore any metal rings, but it still hurt. Then, the man moved downward, spreading his legs, and Tyron's heart began to pound, "Please," he managed to croak, his entire body trembling. "Please, don't do this."_

_His begging was only met with laughter, the kind that haunted your dreams for years on end. The kind that you would hear whenever you closed your eyes. The kind that Tyron would never be able to forget._

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron woke up gasping, his heart attempting to beat out of his chest. He felt goosebumps running down his arms and tried to calm himself down. He covered his head, breathing labouredly. Tyron could remember him screaming in his dream, begging for mercy that never came. His cries echoed in his mind, and strangely the silence surrounding him seemed to be very loud.

Tyron kicked out of the covers, peeling off the sticky patches on his arms that were hooked to the machines. He spotted his hoodie on one of the chairs and snatched it as he walked out of the room. " _I advise you stay in bed, Mr. Tyron_ ," a disembodied voice spoke as he slipped on the hoodie, and Tyron nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked around, but found no owner of said voice. " _I am the building's AI, JARVIS. Master Stark has given me orders to keep you in bed_."

"... What's an AI?" He finally asked the invisible voice, still glancing around the halls and the room before him for someone who could have been operating 'JARVIS'.

" _AI stands for Artificial Intelligence. As I was saying, I advise you to go back to the infirmary. If you were in need of medical assistance, I could contact Master Stark or Doctor Banner_ ," JARVIS suggested, but Tyron shook his head.

"Na... Nah, I jus', uhm, jus' wanted to stretch my legs some," Tyron replied hesitantly. "'Ere anywhere I can go to grab somethin' to eat?"

There was a pause, before JARVIS replied, " _The Tower's Workshop is down this hall, would you like me to guide you_?" Tyron nodded, and a small, red blinking light appeared over the top of the door way. Tyron followed it, and then another one appeared across the room.

As Tyron followed the blinking lights, he spoke, "Uh, JARVIS?"

" _Yes, Mr. Tyron_?" The AI responded.

"What time's it?"

" _It is currently 2: 25 AM_."

"Oh," he hadn't expected it to be so early in the morning. "Am–Am I the only one up?"

" _Master Stark is currently working in the Workshop_." Tyron arrived at a door where there was a green blinking light ahead, and he stopped walking. The doors were glass and clearly showed that inside there were tables full of scrap metal. Near the side of the room sat Tony Stark. He was bent over a desk, working under the light of a night lamp.

Tyron softly thanked the AI, and entered the Workshop, and slowly walked towards Stark. As he got closer, he could hear the man muttering something to himself. "... It's not fitting. Why aren't you fitting? Do you really want me to have a bad morning...? Stop being a bitch and—yay! Finally..."

Tyron sat on a free swivel chair behind him, picking up a thin strip of metal as long as a full-size slim-jim bar. He began to tear pieces off and chewing on it. He stared at Stark, comfortable with the environment around him, for once.

Then, Tony turned around, in order to grab a tool, and noticed Tyron in the same notion. "Holy—" Tony jumped back, his chair hitting the desk, causing something else to fall on the other end. Tyron stood too, accidentally absorbing the metal he was eating. When he noticed it was gone, he swore.

Tony leaned over the table, trying to stop his rapidly beating heart, "M'sorry," Tyron apologized sheepishly, "I–I, uhm, woke up, and your... JARVIS told me I could come 'ere..."

"You're fine," Tony finally said, chuckling under his breath. "Just scared me, that's all."

"Oh... Sorry," Tyron bit the inside of his lip, his eyes trailing to the floor. He spotted the screwdriver, and walked over to pick it up.

"Why are you in here? Did something happen?" Tony asked, as Tyron handed the screwdriver to the man.

"Nah, just couldn't go back to sleep," Tyron shrugged. "What are ya workin' on?" He stepped closer to the table, peering at the red metal hand that was upside-down and had tons of wires and cords sticking out. Tyron wanted to touch it, but didn't trust himself not to absorb it.

"The glove for my suit," Tony replied, checking the screwdriver. It was bent on the end and he swore. "Can't use this anymore..."

"I could help," Tyron suggested. He used the metal he absorbed from the strip he had earlier and turned his not broken finger into the screwdriver.

Tony stared at his hand, not saying a word for several minutes, "Tyron?"

"Yeah...?"

"You finger just turned into a screwdriver."

"Yeah, I did that. I wanted to help."

"Oh, good," he breathed, and chuckled nervously. "Thought I had finally began to hallucinate from being up so long," he laughed.

Tyron laughed, "Can I help?"

"Sure," Tony stood, and Tyron sat in the seat, looking at the places where the screws should go. He got a rag and laid it on the rest of the hand so he didn't touch it an accidentally absorb it. Tyron picked up one, and began to work.

"So, how exactly did you... Faint in the middle of New York City?" Tony asked, watching as Tyron worked.

"I... Got too rusty..."

"You _what_?"

"Rusty, from the rain," he explained, "If it's too much, like it was, then it makes me real sick, like I was. Add tha' to the fact tha' I hadn't eaten anythin' in, like, a week."

"Damn," Tony murmured. "Don't you have family or somewhere you can go to?"

Tyron pressed his lips together, "What's wrong with ya hand?"

Tony rose an eyebrow, "It's for my suit. There was... A glitch in it, to put it in simple terms." Tyron nodded, "Do you have anywhere you can go?"

"Yeah. Why are ya up so late?"

"Insomnia. I don't sleep well anyway. What did you do before Cap found you?"

"I... Worked for an... Organization," Tyron said carefully as he put in another screw.

"Oh. Are you still working there?"

"No. I esca—quit. I quit a few days ago. I... Didn't like the boss."

"How'd you end up in that condition?"

"They... Don't like it when people try to... Uhm, quit. Roughed me up a bit, but m'fine now."

Tony ruffled his eyebrows, concerned, "What kind of business was it?"

Tyron paused for a second, before speaking again, "What kind of metal is this? I've never seen it before, and it smells real good."

Tony narrowed his eyes at how he dodged his question, but decided to go along anyway, "Titanium. Would've went for vibranium, but that's pretty hard to get your hands on nowadays." Tyron nodded, but didn't have a clue what vibranium was. "Are... You in trouble, Tyron?"

He looked at the ground and inhaled, "Nah... I cut things off." Tony didn't reply, so Tyron spoke again, "M'done." He announced, as he stood from the seat.

Tony grinned at him, "Thanks kid."

"Don't mention it," Tyron managed to smirk. "Seriously, don't."

"And why's that?"

"Ya know what they do to mutants. Ya get arrested. If ya black, then ya get arrested, then shot, in tha' order." Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not going to let you get shot, Mr. Iron Giant."

Tyron rose an confused eyebrow, "' _Iron Giant_ '?"

"You haven't seen that movie?"

"Tha's a movie?" Tony gasped, as if Tyron had just blasphemed.

"We'll watch the movie, then you'll understand." Tyron chuckled, and pulled up a chair to sit.

"Is it good?"

"It'll make you cry."

"I don't cry."

"Then, it'll make you extremely depressed."

"So, it's a bad movie...?"

"What?! No, it's an amazing movie!"

Tyron shook his head and laughed, "What suit does this hand go to?"

"One of my older ones. I was checking it out and found a hell of a lot of glitches in the system. Had to redo it one limb at a time."  
Tyron nodded, pulling up a chair, listening to Tony talk about his suit. On some occasions, he would ask questions, and Tony would eagerly answer them. This went on until the wee hours in the morning and Tyron had finally fallen asleep.

Tony had finished and looked behind him at the boy. He was sitting in the chair, his arms crossed over his chest and his head bobbing up and down as quiet snores escaped him. Tony shook his head, deciding to leave the kid where he was. He looked like he needed the sleep anyway.

Tony found a blanket and rested it over his shoulders before exiting the room.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron woke up to someone shaking his shoulders. He jumped up and stepped back, his fingers searching for metal. He found some and absorbed it, quickly turning his finger into metal claws.

"Hey. Hey," Tony spoke, his hands outstretched to calm Tyron. "Just wanted to wake you up." Tyron was quiet for a few seconds, then he took a deep breath and gave a forced smirk.

"Oh, sorry, ya just scared..." He said quietly. He ran a hand in his head and sighed, "Sorry."

"Don't sweat it," Tony assured. "C'mon, there's food in the kitchen," Tyron nodded and followed Tony out of the room.

Tony led Tyron down a few halls, until they stopped in a kitchen with glass doors. The room smelled like pancakes, and Tyron crinkled his nose in disgust. He stepped inside and Tony closed the door behind him. Tyron looked at him, and tensed, and his heart began to race. He had been in too many situations were he felt trapped.

Tony moved to sit at the island counter, and waved Tyron to sit beside him. Tyron didn't accept his offer and stayed standing. He stepped over to see who was at the stove, and found that it was Steve.

Anger washed over Tyron's face, "I said I didn't wanna see 'im!" Tyron snapped at Tony, going back to the doors to see if he could open them, but they were locked.

"He saved your life," Tony reasoned with a sigh. "The least you could do is thank him."

"Like 'ell I will!" He looked for any other doors, but they were glass too. There happened to be a window on the other side of the room, which showed the rain slamming against it. "Fuck."

"Language," Steve piped and Tyron glared at him.

"Fuck _you_ ," he corrected himself, bitterness edging his tone.

The two adults sighed at his attitude, "What's your issue with him?" Tony asked, "He helped you with those thugs, he bought you a drink, and he saved your ass when you were napping on the sidewalk!"

"He ruined my life!" Tyron snapped, "Everythin' was fine until 'e strolled up an' stuck 'is fuckin' nose where it didn't belong! Now Baron's on my ass and I'll be dead in a fuckin' week!"

The room went silent as Tyron ran his hands over his head, "Who's Baron?" Steve asked, "I... Heard you mention that name when I met you." Tyron began to pace, his arms crossed over his chest.

"None of ya goddamn business. You've done enough, just leave m'alone," Tyron grumbled.

"Is Baron your boss?" Tony asked and Tyron winced, "If he's coming to get you then—"

"He's not," Tyron growled. "I'll work it out myself."

"I thought you said you cut it off with that organization."

Tyron didn't offer an answer. He simply sat on the floor, leaning against a wall. After nearly ten minutes of an awkward silence, someone stepped up to one of the glass doors and it opened. "Hey," the voice was feminine, and Tyron looked up. Two people were standing there, one was a woman with striking red hair that was pulled back. She wore a casual clothes and heels with a few inches on them. The man beside her had brown hair and wore a leather jacket and jeans.

The doors closed behind them quickly and Tyron sighed, there goes his escape plan. He heard his name being spoke of and he looked up, "... In a bit of a bad mood." Steve said, looking his direction. Tyron glared at him, and he adverted his eyes.

Then, the two adults where heading his direction. Tyron stood, looked them over. He was able to tell they both were fighters, from his time on the streets. And, they had to be close, based on the way they regarded each other.

The man spoke first, "I'm Clint, Clint Barton. This is my partner, Natasha Romanoff." He held out his hand, but Tyron didn't accept it, he only glared.

"It's nice to meet you," Natasha said, giving him kind smile.

Tyron turned away, now looking at Tony, "When can I leave?" He demanded.

Tony looked at Steve for an answer, but he just shrugged, "When Brucie says you're good, we'll escort you back to your place."

"I don't need a babysitter," Tyron grunted.

"We're not offering one," Steve replied. "We just want to make sure you get home safe." Tyron pressed his lips together, but didn't respond. Steve cleared his throat, "I... Made you something to eat too. Tony said you ate, uh, _differently_ , so..."

"M'not 'ungry." Tyron grumbled, not leaving his spot. "Let's finish the 'check-up' so I can go."

"He's probably still asleep, you'll have to wait," Clint said, and Tyron shot him a side glare. He crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't like being in a room with three men, all bigger and stronger than himself. His instincts from previous encounters screamed at him to find a way out, but he suppressed the urge and took a deep breath.

"So... Tyron," Natasha spoke, and Tyron turned on the spot to look at the woman. "How did you get here?"

"Steve," he answered bluntly. "'E kidnapped me."

"I didn't!" Steve shouted from the other side of the room. Tyron smirked at the man whose cheeks had turned a light shade of pink.

Tony sucked his teeth, "In a way...."

"Shut up, Stark!" He hissed, glaring as he plopped another pancake on the plate. The other adults began to chuckle as the glass doors slid open again. Tyron turned sharply as Bruce stepped through, giving everyone a tired smile.

"Mornin'," he greeted with a small yawn. Although Tyron was glad that the doctor had finally woken up, he also didn't like the idea of now being stuck with four men, and one of them having the ability to turn into a raging green monster.

Tyron began to tap his fingers on his leg. He desperately needed a way out, in case things turned sour. He didn't want to be in this room, he couldn't fight four men on his own. Especially in his condition. Tyron's mind began to unwillingly trail back to his days with Baron, and his dream from last night. Would they treat him like Baron did? Was that why they wouldn't let him go? Mutants were valuable, especially kinds like him.

Tyron remembered his first night with Baron. He remembered the man Baron sold him to, and how he treated him. He remembered his pleas for him to stop, to get off him. He remembered how he hated himself afterwards and how much he wanted to die in that second.

Tyron remembered the one time he tried to fight back. The man who bought him, a young man, and looked very rich. He was in the middle of his 'session' when Tyron snapped. The man had left a ring on by accident and Tyron absorbed it. Then, he used it to cut his dick off. It was a gruesome scene, but he remembered how satisfying it made him feel afterwards, at least, he was for two minutes.

Baron came in and saw what he done. Then, he shot Tyron several times. Bullets never killed him, thanks to his mutation, but it hurt as much as it would getting shot. The pain was excruciating. Tyron could still feel where it collided with it stomach. Then, he strangled Tyron, choking him to near death.

Tyron could feel his hands around his neck and gagged, he couldn't breathe. _He couldn't breathe_. He gagged again, holding his throat. He was going to die. Baron was going to kill him. He was going to find him, and skin him alive. He was a bad, bad pet. He was going to die now.

There were four of them, they were going to kill him. They we're going to kill him, he was going to die. "... Tyron?" One of them said. Tyron made a half-choking, half-panicked sound. "Wha—? Kid, what's wrong?"

Baron was going to kill him. He was going to use these men to get to him. He was going to die. He was trapped again! Trapped! He was stuck! Helpless! Powerless! They were going to kill him. They were going to make him want to kill himself. Die, he was going to die.

People were moving around him, fast. He couldn't follow it, he was trying to focus on his throat working again. Someone came up to him and began to speak, "Tyron, Tyron look at me," Steve. Man. He was going to hurt him. Tyron scrambled back, trembling. "Hey!"

"He doesn't want to talk to you!" A man said, "He's scared!"

"Should we sedate him?" Another man said.

"Yeah, if you wanted to give him a heart attack!" The first, and he was angry.

"Guys, calm down," A woman? Tyron turned, it was Natasha, and she was glaring at the men. He almost sagged with relief, someone to help. She was going to help.

Tyron reached for her, she turned, noticing his movements. He wheezed, struggling to speak. He was still choking, he still couldn't breathe. He was going to die, they were going to kill him!

"Hey, Tyron, you need to calm down," the woman spoke gently. "I know you're scared, but you'll be even more hurt if you don't calm down, alright?" Tyron only nodded. He tried to follow the woman's instructions and attempted to breath easier, but whenever he tried, Baron's hold would tighten.

"What do you need? Do you need something?" She asked, coming closer.

"T... Too ma–many..." Tyron croaked.

"Too many what?"

"Th–They're gonna ki–kill me..." He coughed, the sides of his vision flashing a dangerous red.

"Who is?"

"H–He... Th–They... To–Too many..."

"Okay, Tyron, I want to you to count with me. Can you do that?" Tyron swallowed, but barely nodded, "Good. Ready? One... Two... Three... Four..." Tyron repeated the woman's words as she went up to ten, then back down from ten, and repeated the process.

It had taken nearly an hour, but Tyron's breathing finally steadied out, and he was just left coughing and gasping. "Good job, Tyron," Natasha smiled. He gave a small nod as he tried to catch his breath. "I sent the others outside. If you want something to eat, then Steve and Tony said there should be your 'food' in the cabinet. I don't know what that means, but he said you'd like it."

Tyron didn't bother to answer, so Natasha continued talking, "Do you get those often?" Tyron shook his head. "Do you know what triggered it?" He nodded, "Want to tell me?" He shook his head.

Natasha respected this decision and stood, "Let's get you something to eat, kid."


	6. 6 - Be A Escape Artist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Use of racial slurs.

**Chapter Six:**

Tyron sat at the bar stool counter, staring at his hands. He had never had a breakdown like that. At least, not in several years. He duly wondered if it would happen again, what would he do next time? What if he freaked out during a fight or something important? He could get killed, or someone else could get killed.

At the thought, Tyron drew out a shuddering breath, he didn't like killing people, it was messy and always got really bloody. It wasn't that he was a stranger too it — that was far from the truth, actually — it was simply that he didn't like how it turned him into something... Different. Strange and dangerous. It was a side of him that he wanted to keep hidden.

"Hey, Tyron?" Natasha spoke, and Tyron's head snapped up at her, "What do you want to eat?"

Tyron bit the inside of his cheek, "Where did Steve say 'e put the... Food for me?"

Natasha turned, moving to open up a cabinet, "Over here, but it's all just old metal pans. Maybe he—"

"That's it," Tyron cut Natasha off, rubbing the back of his head. "I, uh, don't eat real food. S'bad for me," he explained, dragging his feet as he took out one of the thin, short pans of metal. He began to chew on the side, as he moved to sit again.

Natasha stared at him, shocked and slightly concerned, "That's not—"

"M'insides are different an' shit," Tyron explained, not feeling up to the task of going into full detail. "I literally can't eat real food."

"Oh," Natasha pursed her lips, "Well, uhm, _eat_. I'll call the guys back in if you—"

" _No_!" Tyron said and Natasha turned to him, an eyebrow raised. Tyron shank, "I... I mean, uhm—"

"If you're afraid that they're going to do something to you, then don't be. They're good guys, despite their stupidity sometimes," Natasha assured with a smile.

"I–I know, I just..." Tyron's eyes darted away from the redhead, "Don't want 'em to see m'like this," he lied. "S'embarrassing, ya know?"

Natasha gave him a funny look, before chuckling, "Okay, sure." Tyron thanked her as he finished his breakfast.

"D'ya think there's anywhere I can go? Just to, like, get settled?"

"Course," Natasha nodded, "You can go stay on my floor, it's usually always empty, so you'll be fine." She led him out of the room and down the hall. Tyron had to hide his relief as he left the kitchen, that felt more like a jail cell, really.

Natasha led him to an elevator. The ride was so smooth as it descended, that Tyron could barely feel his surroundings change. The only indication that told him that he was moving was the occasional dinging every time they passed a floor.

Finally, the got to a floor labeled as 'Nat' from the electronic letters on the bluish screen, and Natasha stepped out. "I probably don't have any scrap metal lying around like Tony, but if you find some nuts or bolts that don't seem too important, then knock yourself out," Natasha told him.

Tyron could only stare at his surroundings, flabbergasted. The room was vast. There weren't 'doorways' separating the different rooms, but you could distinctly see which was which. The walls were painted a palish blue, giving off a comforting aura, however the furniture was much more sinister. There were two punching bags on one side of the room. One looked very worn down, as the other filled with knives jutting out of various places. A oversized throwing dart target took up half of one wall, except it was full of throwing knives, bullet holes, and a few arrows. Beside those two was several cushiony mats, probably used for sparring. On the other side of the room was a television set, which was off, and a black leather couch. Finally, there was a kitchen set near the wall where Tyron had stepped in.

"Make yourself at home," Natasha told him. She pointed down a open hall, where there were four doors closed. "There's a bathroom down that hall, a supply closet, and my bedroom, but you'll figure out which is which." Tyron only nodded, still taking in the sight. He had never seen so many knives in his life. "I have got to go, but if you need me, or anyone else, ask JARVIS. He'll help."

" _В самом деле_ (Indeed)," JARVIS' voice responded.

"Wha'?" Tyron said, looking skyward where he assumed JARVIS to be.

"Oh, right. _Джарвис, изменить настройки языка на английский_ (JARVIS, change the language settings to English). There, he should be fine now," Natasha gave him a grin.

"What language was that?" Tyron asked curiously.

"Russian. That's my first language," Natasha explained. Tyron nodded. He was never good at languages. He could remember back in middle school, he took Spanish, but now, the only think he remembered was ' _No hablo ingles_ (I don't speak English)'. Although he's met a lot of people who are bilingual, he was never able to truly pick up on their language.

"Oh. Tha's cool, I guess," Tyron replied, scratching the back of his head.

Natasha smirked, "Well, I'll leave you here. Like I said, JARVIS will be able to help you with anything you need. Bye," She patted Tyron on the shoulder, making him tense, as she walked towards the elevator. Tyron waited until the doors closed to finally move.

"JARVIS?" Tyron called out.

" _Yes, Mr. Tyron_?"

"Where's th' nearest staircase?"

" _Down the hall, second door on your left_." Tyron nodded, following his directions. He opened the door to see a long staircase. Tyron nearly sighed, as he began to run down the steps, taking two at a time. At some points, he would need to stop to cough, but otherwise, he continued to run. The staircase was long, but that was reasonable, seeing as Stark Tower was a very tall skyscraper.

By the time he got to the last ten or so floors, he was getting very tired. He jogged down them, sluggishly. He knew he didn't have a lot left, but he was also getting extremely tired at the same time.

Tyron stopped at the second floor, and took a minute to catch his breath. When he was finally ready, he stepped out the door.

Tyron found himself in the lobby of the building — at least he assumed it was the lobby. There were receptionist at a few desks along the side, talking to the people in front of them, or chatting on the phone. Tyron pulled up his hood and began to walk briskly for the doors. There were a set of escalators and a staircase, and Tyron quickly jumped down. He glanced around warily, there were a quite a few security officers, some of them looking at him. One of the officers spoke into a communicator on his collar before approaching him. Tyron swore under his breath as the man stepped up to him.

"What do you think you're doing, son?" He demanded. He was a tall, white man, with faint freckles across his face. That didn't stop him from looking very intimidating, however.

"M'tryin' to leave, sir," Tyron explained.

"And how did you get in in the first place?"

Tyron bit his cheek, "M'school was havin' a field trip. I got separated. 'Ey said to go wait at th' restaurant across th' street if ya did. Tha's where m'going, sir."

The man gave him a mean glare before grabbing his arm, "Why don't you come into the back with me?" He spoke, his voice low. He didn't give Tyron an option as he dragged him into a enclosed room. When the man opened the door, he immediately knew it was empty. Tyron gulped down his anxiety as the man opened the door, then closed, and locked it behind him.

"So, tell me again what a little black nigger like you was trying to do?" Tyron glared at the man, not only because he knew his intentions were ill, but also because he called him ' _nigger_ '. Not that he hasn't been called that before — he has, especially with Baron — but it was still highly offensive.

"I was tryin' to leave, sir," Tyron explained through gritted teeth. His eyes darted for any kind of metal, but the room was practically empty and only filled with storage boxes.

The man smacked him in the head, leaving Tyron reeling. Before he could respond, the man grabbed him by his shirt collar, lifting him up. "I don't like dirty kids like you in my lobby, boy," the man growled.

"Good," Tyron coughed, "I was just tryin' to leave."

"Are you being smart with me?"

"Well, m'not bein' stupid, am I?" The man shoved him to the ground. His head collided with the floor, causing stars to fill his vision.

"I'll how you what I do to smartass niggers like you," the man hissed. He began to kick him in his side, making Tyron curl up on himself. Then, he pulled out a baton on his waistband, and began to hit him with that. Tyron bit his lip ferociously in order to not cry out at the man's assaults. Blood spilt from his lips and he coughed on the marble-tile floor.

When the man finally finished hitting him, he picked him up, leaning him against one of the boxes, and began to use him like a punching bag. Tyron nearly lost consciousness, his knees giving out as he slumped against the wall. He wished he had the metal to fight back, but instead was forced to take the beating.

After nearly a half hour, Tyron was bloody and bruised, the man hadn't touched his face though, and Tyron knew exactly why. He was lying on the ground, coughing up the blood that was supposed to be in his body. The man was just looking at him, however proud with what he did to Tyron. "Next time, you, and all the other dirty niggers like you need to stay out of my lobby. Go back to fucking Africa where monkeys like you belong!"

Tyron didn't have the strength to respond, he was only trying to catch his breath. He was probably bleeding internally, or maybe he broke a rib, he wasn't sure. He knew he couldn't stay here though, especially if Steve found him. He needed to get out of the city, maybe go down to the Bronx, he had a few connections there. He wouldn't want them to see him in this condition, but he probably had no choice.

"Hey!" The man snapped, kicking him in the ribs. Tyron wheezed, pain exploding in that region. He doubled over, coughing and hacking up more blood. The man thew a rag at him, "Clean up your shit." Then, he spat, the majority of it landing on Tyron's face. Tyron was slow, since his chest and torso would burn whenever the tried to move, but he used the dirty rag to clean up the blood then wiped off the spit on his face.

It took Tyron several minutes to stand, but he finally did. He accidentally moved his fingers despite the cast on them, and winced at the pain that brought too.

The man grabbed him by the neck, wrapping his arm around him, as he pulled up his hoodie and brought him out the door. He got to the door where the metal detectors and a few more security guards were. "He was on a field trip and got separated," he explained. "There's a rendezvous point across the street for them, I'm just gonna walk him out." A few nodded, satisfied with his lies.

He finally got to the door, and was about to step out when someone shouted behind him. "Tyron!" It was Steve. Of course.

"Fuck," Tyron swore, earning a sharp jab in the side from the man beside him. He winced when he injured a sensitive point.

"Captain America," The man saluted Steve and he smiled. "It's an honour to meet you, sir."

"Thank you," Steve replied. "I apologize, he is with me."

The man stared at him for a second, a dark look passing his face, "Of course, sir," the man replied through clenched teeth, pushing Tyron over roughly. Tyron tried to stand straight, but ended up hugging his torso, holding back a hiss in pain.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," Steve replied, taking Tyron by the arm and walking him back in the Tower. Tyron snatched his arm away from the man, glaring at him. He could feel the other security guard glowering holes in the back of his head, but he didn't care.

Steve made it to the elevator, and was lucky enough to get an empty one. "What were you trying to do?"

Tyron coughed twice before attempting to answer, "Leave," it came out in a croak.

"Why? You're still sick!" When Tyron didn't respond, Steve let out a sigh, "Let me see your hands."

"Hell no," Tyron glared.

"I need to see how they're healing."

"Why can't Doctor Banner do tha'?" Tyron grumbled, "I don't want ya anywhere near me."

"Why? What did I do?" Steve asked, almost sounding hurt.

"Ruined my—" he didn't get to finish his sentence when he suddenly began to cough again. Blood splattered on his sleeve, but he quickly hid it before Steve could see. "I don't wanna talk," He grumbled. Steve gave him a look, but sighed, and waited for the elevator doors to open.

On the other side stood Tony, who grinned as the two stepped out, "Found the escapee?" Tony mused. Tyron shot him a glare as he stepped out of the elevator, his arms folded over his chest. "What's with the face?" Tony said, poking his cheek. Tyron almost snapped his teeth at the man, knowing they were strong enough to tear his whole finger off, but decided against it. Instead, he slapped his hand away, and continued to walk down the hall.

"Well, ya 'ave m'ere, wha' do ya want?" Tyron grumbled at the blonde man.

"To make sure you weren't going to go out and do something stupid," Steve replied, and Tyron shot him a glare.

"I told ya I didn't need a fuckin' babysitter!" Tyron snapped at the two. Tony seemed to relish in his anger, and forced an arm around his shoulders.

"You're adorable," Tony teased. Tyron bared his teeth at him, and Tony chuckled, "What's got you so angry, Metalhead?"

"Leave m'alone," he grumbled. Tony huffed, but gave him a pat on the back. It was a friendly gesture, and wouldn't have hurt as much as it did, if his injuries weren't so recent.

Tyron hissed, his hand reaching to rub the throbbing air. As if on cue, his lungs began to burn and caused him to fall into another coughing fit. Tony as Steve stared at him as he nearly fell to his knees as he coughed into his arm. By the time he finished, he was feeling lightheaded and faint.

Tyron noticed Steve staring at his face, and swore, moving his sleeve to wipe at his mouth, but it was already too late. "You're coughing up blood!?" He demanded. Tyron didn't respond, as the man advanced on him. "What happened? Is it that bad?"

"Leave m'alone," Tyron grumbled with a coarse voice. "M'fine."

"No you're not!" Steve grabbed his arm that he was coughing into. Tyron tried to pull away as he stared at his arm, but his grip was like iron. He could feel his heart beginning to race as Steve inspected his arm with anger and concern.

"Leave m'alone!" His voice was panicked, he could feel Baron's grip tightening. He pulled again, grinding his teeth, blood pounding in his ears.

"No! We need to get you to Banner! Tony—" Steve cut himself off, staring at Tyron's panicked, terrified expression. "What? Tyron—"

"Let go. Let go, _please_ ," he was begging at this point, his voice shuddering in fear. Steve let go of him immediately, and Tyron stumbled away, his own hand wrapping around where Steve had his arm. Absentmindedly, he massaged it, slowly calming himself down.

"Hey, hey, Tyron," Tony spoke, his voice slow and steady. Tyron turned to the man, waiting and staring, "Good. JARVIS, scan his heart rate."

" _Mr. Tyron's heart rate is going back to normal levels. He should be fine in approximately two minutes_ ," the AI responded.

"I'm sorry," Steve apologized.

Tyron turned away from him, allowing himself to let go of his hand. "M'fine. Just don't touch m'no more," he was really quiet as he spoke, and didn't meet Steve's eyes.

Steve nodded, agreeing with that decision as Tony pointed out, "We still have to get you to Banner to check out that coughing though." Tyron groaned.


	7. 7 - Be A Therapist

**Chapter Seven:**

"No!" Tyron snapped at the man, glaring.

"All you have to do is—" Bruce began, but Tyron was not hearing it. He was perched on the couch, his arms crossed tight over his chest. The four men stood before him and Natasha beside him. Tyron didn't like his odds, but didn't want another repeat of breakfast, so he tried to keep himself calm. Well, at least his definition of calm.

"No!" Tyron snapped, "I feel fine, so there's no reason for ya to give me a check-up!"

"You were coughing up _blood_ , Tyron," Bruce reasoned. "You could have internal bleeding and you wouldn't even know. I just need to check your ribs, it won't take more than five minutes."

Tyron glared at him, "I'm not takin' off anythin'."

"Deal," Bruce agreed.

"Ya stop when I want ya to stop."

"Okay."

Tyron sucked his teeth, "And, I want Natasha in there too." Natasha rose an eyebrow at the strange request but nodded. "Then... Fine." Bruce smiled and Tyron stood, as well as Natasha, and he led them to the infirmary.

"So what school do you go to, Tyron?" Natasha asked as they navigated through the Tower.

"I don't go to school," Tyron replied. "Haven't since seventh grade."

"Really?" Bruce spoke, turning to him.

"Yep."

"Why?" Natasha asked, also surprised.

"Shit hit the fan," Tyron shrugged. "Don't need it anyway."

"Yes you do," Bruce argued as they entered the infirmary. "How do you expect to go anywhere?"

"M'a mutant," Tyron deadpanned, "M'not allowed in most countries and _barely_ considered a human _here_. I don't plan on goin' anywhere 'cept back to the street." Tyron sat on the medical bed and Natasha spoke.

"How do you expect to get any money or pay for anything?" Natasha asked.

"There's other ways to do that," Tyron replied. "It ain't legal, but it pays for a place to sleep, usually."

"How long have you been on the street?" Bruce asked, concerned, "Where are you parents?"

"I thought ya were gonna give me a check-up," Tyron grumbled. "Not _interrogate_ me."

"We're _not_ ," Natasha assured. "We're just _worried_."

"Then don't be," Tyron replied. Bruce finally turned with a medical glove on and stethoscope around his neck.

"Could you at least take off your sweater?" Tyron nodded, that was reasonable, and pulled his sweater off over his head, dumping it behind him on the bed. Bruce touched his torso, over his shirt. It happens to be just below his bindings so Tyron tried to relax.

"How would you go about getting money?" Natasha asked curiously.

Tyron rose an eyebrow and pressed his lips. "I don't wanna say," he admitted, glancing down occasionally as Bruce moved his hand. "Rather not git 'rested if ya know what I mean."

"We won't say anything," Bruce promised.

Tyron give him a wary look, "Don't tell the others either."

"Promise."

He sighed, "Pick-pocketin', usually. Sometimes drugs though. I got people." He _had_ people, actually. Since they were all with Baron, there'd be no way for him to get to Weed, or any of his Crackhead buddies.

"You really shouldn't—"

"Do drugs?" Tyron finished Bruce's sentence. "I don't, not usually. Sometimes, I'll smoke here or there, but usually, I sell. It keeps me livin' and I ain't addicted to nuthin' anyway."

"Have you ever tried to get a job?" Natasha asked. "Plenty of people hire kids your age."

"If I tried, I'll have to go through mutant testing," Tyron grimaced. He had tried to get a job a few times, and they all said he had to test if he were a mutant or not. "Nobody wants to hire a freak."

"You're not a freak," Bruce scolded, but Tyron shrugged.

"Don't care. I've been called worse. 'Sides, no one cares where their drugs come from. As long as they get it, they fine. Are ya done yet?"

"Almost," Bruce said, moving to his stethoscope. He almost touched his chest, but Tyron moved his arm with his casted hand.

"No," Tyron said firmly, moving away from the man. "M'done." He grabbed his sweater off the bed and slipped it over his head. "What's next? Can I leave?"

Bruce, a bit startled by him suddenly wanting to leave, rose an eyebrow, "Uh, you should probably stay here until your hand is healed."

Tyron sucked his teeth, "It'll be fine in a few more days," he lied. "As long as m'eatin', it should heal."

"Do you have a place to go?" Natasha asked, "Someone you can call?"

Tyron thought for a second, before nodding, "Yeah," he replied, scratching the back of his head. "Gotta phone I can use?"

Natasha nodded and pulled a cell phone, then tossed it to him, "Who are you going to call?"

"A friend'a mines," Tyron said, dialing the number and putting the phone to his ear.

He could hear Weed wheeze in the background, " _Who da fuck is dis_?" He grumbled, probably hungover and high.

"Don't make me beat ya scrawny ass, Weed," Tyron snapped. "It's Ty, you dipshit."

" _Ty? What the fuck, you_ alive?!"

"Yeah, boss roughed me up, but m'fine," he replied, straightening. He tried to ignore the stares the two adults were giving him. "Look, I'll be back later dis week, don't tell boss. I gotta grab some shit. Ya think ya can cover for me?"

" _Course, man_ ," Weed replied.

"Great. I'll be around the SC. I'll call you when m'comin'."

" _Cool man_ ," Weed replied, and Tyron hung up the phone. He didn't give it back to Natasha because he absorbed it.

"Sorry," he apologized when Natasha looked alarmed as the phone disappeared. "Didn't want it traced."

"A little warning would've been nice," Natasha muttered. "Now I need a new phone."

Tyron gave a guilty shrug, "Now what? Do I just twist m'thumbs an' wait?"

"Preferably," Bruce replied. "If it'll only take you a few days to heal, like you said, then I suggest taking it easy. Get something to eat, watch TV, whatever you want."

Tyron nodded, "Anywhere I can take a shower?"

"You can do that on my floor," Natasha replied, "C'mon," she waved, leading him away from the infirmary.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"What do ya do?" Tyron asked as they stepped into the elevator.

"Pardon?" Natasha replied, not quite understanding his question.

"For... Like, a job," Tyron elaborated.

"Clint and I work together," Natasha explained. "We're usually overseas, but whenever we get the chance, we crash here." Tyron hummed. "You want anything to eat?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," Tyron replied. "Can I...?" He pointed towards the shower.

"Sure, go ahead," Natasha said. "There should be towels and stuff in there, and if you need anything else, ask JARVIS."

"Got it," Tyron smiled, heading down the hall.

Natasha waited until he closed the door to speak into her arm band, "He's gone now, I'm heading down."

"Thanks Nat," Steve's voice replied. "Sorry about this, I didn't think you two would be back so soon." Natasha pulled a notepad out of a kitchen drawer along with a pen, and began scribbling down a note.

"I don't mind, he's not bad," Natasha replied.

"He hates me," Steve grumbled, and he laughed, clicking off the pen and leaving the note for the teenager.

"You two just got off on the wrong foot," Natasha said, punching the button on the elevator. "Give him some time."

"Fine," he cleared his throat. "Come on, Loki's staff won't find itself."

"It _is_ magic," Natasha replied. "Who knows what it could do."

Steve chuckled on the other end, "You're right, I guess."

"It'll be any day now," Natasha spoke, almost wishfully. The doors opened and she stepped out, greeted by Steve. "Any news from Big, Blonde and Beautiful?" A look of confusion passed his face, "Thor," Natasha clarified.

"Oh! No, I don't think so. I think we're on our own for this one," Steve shrugged.

"His loss," Natasha smirked, and Steve chuckled.

"Come on, we got a magic staff to catch."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron felt really good after the shower. Usually, he stayed far away from the stuff, only using it whenever he direly needed to, but he changed his mind as he let the steaming water run over his scarred dark skin. For once, he allowed himself to forget his problems and feel like a teenager.

Well, that is, until he decided that he would rather not run up the water bill and get kicked out. Not that he didn't want to leave, but he decided that if he was going to get put back on the streets, it would need to be for something more dignified than the Avengers getting angry over a marginally higher than usual water bill.

Tyron slipped his clothes back on, almost annoyed at the putrid scent they gave off — especially since it was so different from his how body smelt. "Hey, JARVIS?"

" _Yes, Mister Tyron? How can I be of assistance_?" The automated voice replied.

"D'ya have any clothes I can wear? That's, uh, clean?" Tyron asked, feeling slightly embarrassed by the question.

" _Scanning size, one moment_..." A minute later, the voice spoke, " _It seems that the clothes that would best fit your body type is a size 8 women's shirt, size 6 women's trousers_ —"

"Never mind!" Tyron exclaimed, his cheeks enflamed, "I–I, uhm, can ya... Delete that request?"

" _All requests to me get sent to Master Tony to review_."

"Oh, fuck me..." Tyron muttered, covering his face in his hands. " _Please_ , JARVIS? Just this one time?" JARVIS went silent for a moment.

" _Request deleted_ ," the AI spoke again, " _Just this one time_." Tyron sagged in relief, thanking the AI profusely, and decided to just scrub his clothes in the sink, and wear them damp as they dried.

Tyron went into the wide room and spotted a note on the counter, and picked it up.

_'Steve, Clint, and I had to go out again. Feel free to eat whatever's edible for you, that's not important. We'll be back next Friday._

_Nat.'_

and sat on the floor in front of the couch in the living room area. He didn't want to get the couch wet accidentally. Tyron grabbed the remote and turned on the television. The Daily Bugle was on. The headlines on the bottom read, ' **LOCAL GUARD PUTS A PERMANENT STOP TO A DANGEROUS MUTANT** '.

"— _Freaks like these need to be contained_!" J. Jonah Jameson screamed into the camera, point a finger at the prone body of an black, teenage mutant with beautiful bloodied wings protruding out of his back. They had black and silky feathers, but you could see the blood glistening off of it, and the bullet hole that went went through his head. His arms were splayed and were his legs.

Tyron only stared at the body, allowing the man's words to flow over him. " _It's a good thing our police got to it first, it could've killed any one of us! It was found about to fly away from a murder scene. An security guard at Stark tower spotted it and shot it down before it could get too far. I have him with me now_ ," he turned to the side, waving towards him, and a man walked forward. It took Tyron a moment before he recognized him. This was the same man who beat him to near death!

" _Tell me, Mr. Graves, tell me, how do you feel to suddenly become a public hero_?" Jameson asked

" _It feel good, Jameson_ ," He spoke. Tyron shook as the words chilled his spine. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore it, but the man continued to talk. " _I wanted to be an officer when I was young, you know, just wasn't able to get the chance. Today, I had the honour to feel like one by putting one of those disgusting mutants in their place_."

Tyron choked, his mind relaying the images of the body. That boy couldn't have been any older than himself. If... If that guard saw him absorb something, would he have killed him too...? Thinking about it made him sick to his stomach.

" _Good man, good man_ ," Jameson continued. " _On behalf of the Daily Bugle, and the Police force, I would like to gift you with this_ ," Jamesone held out a shiny tie pin with a small NYPD badge on it. " _Thank you for making our community a safer_ —"

"Enough of that," Stark grumbled behind Tyron. Tyron jumped, scrambling to his feet, shaking. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Tony apologized. "That guy's a dick though. Just trying to save your time."

Tyron leaned against the couch, and sighed. "You okay?" Tony asked, suddenly concerned, "I understand if you're upset, I am too."

"He was a _kid_ ," Tyron said, almost a whisper.

"I know."

"He was a fuckin' _kid_!" He snapped, his fists clenching and unclenching. "And his murderer gets a shiny fuckin' _metal_!? What the hell!?" Tyron covered his hands with his face and sighed, striding towards the elevator.

"Where are you going?" Tony demanded.

"I'm going to _kill_ him," Tyron growled, jabbing a finger on the button.

"JARVIS, code 15," Tony spoke, and the light in the button died out. Tyron felt the elevator stop running and glared at Tony.

"What the fuck—!?"

"You need to calm down," Tony said, moving to sit at the kitchen counter. "What do you think killing him is going to accomplish?"

"He killed a kid because he was a mutant!" Tyron snarled, "That's fucked up!"

"It is," Tony replied, "But _killing_ him won't make the mutant community seem any better. In their eyes, you — a _mutant_ — killed a hero. In their eyes, _you're_ the monster. You'll just make matters worse, Tyron."

Tyron looked away, knowing Tony had been right. He sighed, rubbing his face, "If–If that had been _me.._."

"Lucky for you, it wasn't," Tony replied. "I'm going to fire him too, for what he did to the kid and to you."

Tyron froze, "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"You don't have to play dumb," Tony said, leaning back in his seat. "I know what happened, JARVIS showed me the videos." Tyron glared at the ground, not meeting his eyes. "I was going to lay him off anyway, I've been getting reports from other officers that he's been racist and sexist to his peers. He's really got that ' _old school_ ' thinking, and he grew up in a primarily white extremist community. Just needed some solid evidence to get him out for good, and to make sure he didn't hurt anyone else."

Tyron leaned against the counter, sighing, "Ya didn't have to let 'im go," he muttered, rubbing his face.

Tony looked surprised, "Why say that? He attacked you! You were just ready to up and kill the man."

"Yeah but..." Tyron sucked his teeth, "I was upset because he killed a kid, that's fucked up, but I ain't mad because he roughed m'up."

"Why wouldn't you be?"

Tyron scratched the back of his head, "I guess... M'used to it." He shrugged, "Got beat up on all the time, so I don't care much about it. Besides, he has kids, ain't he?"

"Yeah, probably," Tony shrugged.

Tyron made an annoyed noise, "God, I hate that."

"Hate what?"

"When they have kids," he muttered. "Makes m'feel real shitty. 'Cause ya can't really do anythin' about what ya parents do, ya jus' gotta live with it. That's what turns people into fuckin' monsters — when he makes me kill 'em." Tyron froze, realizing what he had said. "No, shit, I–I mean—"

"You said it wasn't dangerous," Tony spoke, staring at him. "You've _killed_ people?!"

"Fuck, no, I–I mean... Yeah, but... Goddamn, that's not what I..."

"What _did_ you mean then?" Tony asked. Tyron flinched, knowing that he hadn't meant to come off as intimidating, but couldn't help but feel a little jumpy. Tony noticed the notion and backed down a little. "If you need someone to talk to kid, then—"

"Yeah, I know," Tyron cut him off. He dragged his hand down his face. "Can... Can we drop it, for now? I... I'll talk 'bout it, but... Not now." Tyron squirmed, uncomfortably, and Tony sighed.

"Sure, kid. Wanna play cards?" He moved to one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a old fashioned deck.

Tyron rose an eyebrow, "Ya know how to play Spades?"

"I will once you teach me." Tyron laughed.

"Used to play this with m'brother all the time!" Tyron said animatedly as he shuffled the deck.

"Brother?" Tony mused.

Tyron gave a nostalgic smile, "Yeah. You'd love 'im."

"How about this: If I win, you tell me about this brother of yours."

"Ya don't even know a lick'a how to play," he laughed.

"I'll learn."

"And what'chu gonna do when ya lose?" Tyron taunted.

"I'll let you have one of my old suits," he said, and Tyron stared at him.

"Really...?"

"Sure, why not?" He shrugged carelessly.

"Ya know I'll tear that thin' apart like a chicken dinner, right?" Tyron said, a bit of a laugh to his tone.

"Well, we'll see about that, won't we?" Tony smirked. "Show me how to play."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"That's fuckin' _bullshit_!" Tyron hissed, glaring at his cards and Tony's bet. He was _spot on_ with each and everyone one, to the point that it was uncanny, and he kept betting high too. Tyron thought he was being reckless, but when Tony's point began to add up, he knew he was going to lose.

Tony had over five times as many points that he had. Tony smirked, shuffling the deck, "I guess I win then?"

"You said you didn't know how to play," Tyron muttered, nearly tossing his cards at him angrily. Tony collected them with a laugh.

"I didn't, but I can count cards, and I'm pretty good with betting. Half of my job _is_ working with numbers. It has to be useful for something." Tyron glared at him.

"Cheater," he grumbled bitterly.

"Don't play cards with a genius," Tony shrugged, "Just shooting yourself in the foot."

"Noted," he replied dryly, but leaned back in his seat. "But, I'll tell ya about my bro though, since I promised."

Tony sat up, "Oh wow, I totally forgot about that," he blatantly lied. "Do carry on speaking about your fellow spawning."

Tyron rolled his eyes, "'Is name was Chris. 'E was smart, athletic, everyone fell in love with 'im, but most of all was that he was _normal_ , somethin' I could never be. 'E would sometimes take m'out to the court, when I wasn't holed up in m'room. Made m'play some BB...— _Basketball_ with 'im. He was... 'E was also a total nerd," Tyron chuckled. "Wanted to be a... Neurologist," he said the word slowly, having a bit of trouble with it. "Mom and Pops didn't care what he wanted, as long as it was good. They excepted me to be jus' as good as 'im. Then..." Tyron sighed, but straightened.

"He was walkin' 'ome one day and got mugged. They left 'im in an alley for nearly a whole day. I found 'im. I took 'im 'ome. I tried to 'elp 'im, but 'e pushed m'away. Pushed us all away. 'E didn't come out of 'is room for nearly two weeks. When 'e finally did, it was in a body bag." Tyron looked at the ground, his fists clenching, "Sometimes, I 'ate 'im. I 'ate 'im so fuckin' much. For leavin' me with them. I... We were close, ya know. I wanted to 'elp my big bro, but 'e up and offed 'imself."

"He sounds like a great guy," Tony spoke solemnly.

Tyron nodded slightly, "Yeah... 'E was..." Tyron really missed him. Talking about it brought up raw nerves that he didn't know he even had! But, at the same time, it was... Relieving. He never had the chance to actually talk to someone about his death, and felt good now that he had.

"JARVIS, send up suit 1.2-8," Tony spoke out. Tyron stared at him, confused. "Oh, don't give me that look, I know you haven't eaten all day. Besides, you deserve it."

"I tried to run away," Tyron deadpanned.

"But you didn't," Tony smirked.

"Yeah, 'cause a racist white guy stopped me."

"And you could've beaten him to a pulp, but you didn't."

"I couldn't find any metal."

"You get my point," Ton said dismissively. "C'mon, we can play _Mario-Kart_ , if you're up to it?" Tyron starred at the man, but could help the smug smirk growing on his face.!

"Deal," he chuckled, heading over to the couch with Tony. The two played video games and watched movies all night long. Tony's old suit was nothing short of delicious to Tyron. Tyron couldn't remember the last time he was able to chill like this with someone. It wasn't recently, he knew for sure. He like it.

Tyron curled up on the couch in the middle of _the Iron Giant_ , catching himself slowly nodding off. He checked the time, 2:39 AM. He didn't even notice so much time passing. He started to nod off again, trying to keep his eyes open, but failed and sank into his dreams.

Tony glanced over at Tyron at the end of the movie, "So, what did you—?" He stopped himself when he noticed Tyron had been sleeping and snoring lightly. Tony chuckled, getting a blanket out of a basket near the side and draped it over the boy. Tyron stirred, snuggling into its contained warmth, but stayed sleeping.

Tony took this chance to clean up the cards, the Wii games, and their food. He gave one last glance at Tyron before before cutting the lights.


	8. 8 - Be A Friend

**Chapter Eight:**

_The action of severing the head off the man's shoulders came all to easy for Tyron. It was chilling. A woman sat in the corner of the room, her back pressed against the wall that divided the living room with the kitchen. She stared at her husband, tears streaming down her face._

_"Good boy!" Baron said behind him as Tyron morphed his hand back to normal, flexing his fingers. "Now, finish the rest."_

_Tyron took no hesitation as he stepped forward. The woman begged and pleaded for him to stop, to leave her, but Tyron hardly heard her. He was too focused on what Baron may do if he didn't do a satisfactory job. Who he might rent him out to tonight, how he would punish him._

_"Please!" She sobbed, "Please, I–I hav–have kids!! Th–They're too yo–young! Oh, oh, god, no! Don't hurt my babies! Don't hurt m—" Tyron drove his arm blade into the woman's chest. She gasped, trembling, her dark eyes staring into his tainted soul. Tears still falling from the corners of them._

_Tyron pulled out the blade and move away, only hearing her dead body collapse to the floor. "Good!" Baron smiled, his yellow-and-golden teeth bared. "Finish off the kids, bring back any pretty ones."_

_Tyron stared at him, "Ya said jus' the ones that—" Baron wasted not a second shooting him. The bullet landed in his shoulder and Tyron cried out as his body absorbed the impact, and then the metal itself. He hissed, falling to his knees, tears biting his eyes._

_Baron walked over, his boots hitting the ground so hard that Tyron could feel it vibrate under him. He stood before Tyron, his gaze piercing, "Playthin's don't talk back," Baron growled. "Unless you want m'to unload this entire clip on your ass."_

_"N–No, please, I..." Tyron gasped, "I–I'n sorry, I won't — I won't do it 'gain." He shudderingly stood, his body shaking._

_Baron smiled at him, gripping his chin in his hands, "That's what I thought." Baron nudged him with the gun, and Tyron slowly stepped forward. He walked towards the hall with the three bedrooms. One was a master — the one the woman and man were in — the others, children rooms, Tyron supposed._

_He opened the door, seeing a little girl sitting on a twin-sized bed. She was clutching the sheets and stared at Tyron, her face pale. Her hair was loose and fell down her back, and her blue eyes wide with terror and confusion. "Mister, what're you doin' in my room?" She asked, "Where's my mommy and daddy? What's that red stuffs all over you?"_

_Tyron choked back a sob. He turned around, to recompose himself, and then turned back to the girl. She looked confused now, and didn't know of her fate. "Brother is still sleepin', don't wake him up! Mommy said he had a bad day at school! The bullies messed with him!"_

_Tyron went to the side of the little girl's bed, then sat down, staring at her. "What's ya name?"_

_"Mommy said don't tell ya name to strangers," she argued stubbornly._

_"Please."_

_The girl gave him a strange look, "Sissy. But my reals name is Cecelia! And by brother's name is Fincent. What's yours?"_

_Tyron tried not to smile, he couldn't allow himself to get attached. "Tyron. M.... M'feeling sad, Sissy, would ya mind giving me a hug?"_

_"Sure!" Cecelia smiled, "Everyone deserves a hug! Mr. Penguin says that! Do you watch the Penguin Show?"_

_"Nah, but I'll see if I can," Tyron wrapped his arms around her, and she returned the hug, holding tight to him. Tears fell from his eyes and into the girl's blonde hair. "M'so sorry, Cecelia." He told her, his choked voice small, then cut off the girl's head._

_Tyron let himself cry and hug the headless body for several moments, before he stood. He knew Baron would be upset if he didn't hurry. He was already going to probably get a punishment for speaking out of turn. No use in making it worse._

_Tyron stood from the bed and turned to the other child's room._

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron woke up on the couch, gasping and trembling. He slammed his eyes closed, trying to forget the graphic memory, but it was no use — it would be engrained in his mind forever.

Tyron felt tears fall down his cheeks, and he couldn't help a whimper, if not in pain, but in sorrow. He didn't want to kill anymore children, oh god, he didn't. They... They were so _young_. Yet, he knew that if he didn't, then they would have to endure a fate like his, if not worse. Death would be more generous than that, yet still. They... They were so young.

Tyron choked sob, trying to wipe at his wet eyes. He didn't want to kill anymore! He didn't want to see them, it... He couldn't stand it!

Tyron could hear the little girl's words in his ears, " _Why, mister_?" She would ask, " _Why'd you hurt me? I thought we were friends_!"

"M'sorry," he cried, even though he knew she couldn't hear, "M'so sorry, I didn't—he made me! I–I—"

" _Mister Tyron_?" JARVIS' voice spoke calmly overhead. " _Are you alright? Would you like me to contact Master Stark_?"

" _No_!" Tyron gasped, his eyes wide. Stark couldn't come! He couldn't see him like this! He might find out, and he definitely didn't want him to! "No, don't! I–I'm fine, jus–jus' don't."

" _Are you sure, Mister Tyron? You are showing early symptoms of a panic attack. It would be best to get someone to assist you at the moment_."

"No, no, no, no," Tyron wheezed, slamming his eyes shut. "No, please, don't." If he found out that he was trans, they would kill him! They'd treat him just like Baron! He didn't want to get hurt anymore! He didn't want to kill anymore kids! Oh god, please don't make him! He didn't—he doesn't...

Tyron curled up on the couch, wheezing. Calm the fuck down, he chastised himself angrily. Calm down! Calm down! Calm down! _Calm_ —

" _Why did you hurt me_?" Cecelia whispered softly in his ear. Tyron went ridged, his blood running ice cold. " _Why did you hurt my brother? We were scared, and you killed us. You killed us all, mister_."

"Please," he begged. "M'sorry, leave m'alone! 'E would've killed m'if I didn't! M'sorry! I–I—"

A hand settled on his shoulder and Tyron nearly screamed, scrambling away. "Sorry! I'm sorry!" Bruce said immediately, backing away. Tyron stared at him, trying to lower his heart rate, but he could feel the panic building inside him. "Are–Are you okay? JARVIS said that you were having a... A episode, and you needed help." Bruce came closer, but Tyron moved back, nearly falling off the end of the couch.

"Jus–Jus' stay there!" Tyron snapped, running his hands through his hair. Bruce stopped moving, and Tyron breathed.

"Do you need something? Water?" Bruce asked carefully.

"Jus'..." Tyron coughed, stumbling over his own words. "Please, jus'—"

"It's okay, I won't move," he assured, and true to his word, he stood right where he was. "JARVIS, play ' _The Playlist_ '."

" _On it, sir_ ," JARVIS responded. Immediately, steady jazz filtered through the overhead speakers. It was slow, and calming.

"Thank you," Bruce said. "I–I listen to this whenever I'm having a, uhm, episode. Especially after nightmares. It keeps me from, you know, going green." Tyron was only able to nod, and slowly closed his eyes, despite what his instincts wanted. For nearly an hour, neither of them said anything, and just listened to the music.

Finally, Tyron broke the silence. "Thank you..." He said, in a near whisper. Bruce looked up at him and blinked. "Sorry. I had a real shitty dream, an', it... Yeah... So, thanks."

"Oh, yeah. No–No problem, don't worry about it," Bruce replied quickly.

"Why'd ya come 'ere?" Tyron asked curiously. "I asked JARVIS not to bring anyone."

" _Actually, you requested for me not the bring Master Stark, so I did not_ ," JARVIS replied, as Tyron narrowed his eyes.

"Sneaky bastard."

" _I cannot be a '_ bastard _' for I am not human_."

Bruce laughed, and Tyron rolled his eyes, pouting slightly. "Well, anyway, would you like to get some breakfast? Stark told me you ate one of his suits, last night, so I don't know if you're hungry or not but—"

"I am," Tyron said, cutting his rambling off short. "Thanks for askin'." Tyron stood, and walked with Bruce, unconsciously standing at least arm's length away from the man.

Tyron and Bruce spent breakfast together, talking about different, menial things. It was strange to Tyron, he couldn't remember the last he had a simple conversation like this. Usually, when he talked to people, it ended in punches being thrown and words turning sour. But now, here they were, a hulk and a mutant, talking about Tony's suits and how Tyron admired them — in sight and in taste. It felt good to talk like that for once.

Oddly enough, Tyron enjoyed it.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

The week had gone by all too quickly, and before either of them knew it, it was Friday. Tyron's hands healed well enough for him to be able to flex his fingers a little in every direction, as his wrist was only sore, a would hurt if he moved it too jaggedly or too much. It wasn't a lot, but enough for him to lie that he felt better.

Another plus was that the rain had stopped and it was bright and sunny. Tyron couldn't be more pleased, silently thanking it's warm rays.

Tyron said his goodbyes to Tony and Bruce, since the three others were still out on their mission. Tony asked if he wanted to be dropped off, but Tyron quickly refused. He didn't want Baron knowing he was coming, and riding down in a nice limousine — in the Hood, mind you — would cause a mountain's worth of mistakes. So, Tyron decided to simply walk. It wasn't that far, only a couple hours, and he convinced a lie to the two men that he'd grab a taxi.

Tony did give him two things. One, was money. Nearly three hundred dollars! Tyron stared at it, almost too terrified to even touch such a large sum of money. It took some examining — and some assurance that it was real — for Tyron to accept. Tony made him promise to not use it on anything bad, like drug ms — Tyron shot Bruce a glare at the mention of the substance, but he shook his head, innocently. Natasha then?

Tyron promised him that he wouldn't, but it had been a little hard. He hadn't smoked in at least two weeks, a pack of cigarettes would be fine.

The other thing Tony gave him, was a necklace, that held a charm that looked like the Iron Man helmet. Tyron rose an eyebrow, surprised by such a small thing, that also looked homemade, but Tony assured that it was only something for him to remember them by.

Tyron said his goodbyes and left around two PM that day, ready for the two-to-three hour walk it was most likely going to take to get to the 'Yard. He was going to grab a few things, and then head down to the 'Yard in the Bronx. It was a lot smaller than Baron's, but if he played it safe, keeping his identity secure, he should be fine.

With this thought in mind, Tyron hurried down the sidewalk.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron arrived at the 'Yard around six PM, judging by the sun. He was on at the SC, or South Corner, just where he instructed Weed to be. Sure enough, the scrawny man was leaning against the fence, smoking a joint between his fingers. Tyron stepped forward. "Weed!" He hissed, as the man jumped, turning instantly.

"Fuck!" Weed snapped, his face reddened with the sudden surprise, "Ya scared me!"

Tyron rolled his eyes, "M'comin' in, make sure no one's looking."

Tyron placed a foot on the grate, about to climb, when Weed suddenly exclaimed, "N–No! Wait!" Tyron stopped, confused.

"What? I need to hurry!"

"Wait, jus'... I wanted to know where you've been, dat's all," Weed explained, dropping the joint and twirling it's still burning end between his fingers.

"Oh... Wit' a friend," Tyron said, then began climbing again.

"Stop!" He hissed, "Who's dis friend of ya's?"

"Why do ya wanna know?" Tyron asked, suspicious.

"'Cause if somethin' happens, I–I might wanna go see 'em too. I mean, they let ya crab for a few nights, right? Think they'll let m'stay over too?"

"I don' know," Tyron replied, shrugging. "Look, I gotta hurry, so—"

"Why don' I just git it for ya?" Weed suggested. "Tell m'where it's at an' I'll grab it real quick."

Tyron stared at the man, "Is somethin' _wrong_?"

"What? What would somethin' be wrong?" Weed replied, rolling his red-eyes. "Jus' tell me—"

"Don't fuckin' lie to me, Weed!" Tyron snapped, glaring at the man. "What the hell did ya do?!"

Weed shifted his gaze, from the ground to behind him, to back at him. His eyes begging, and his bones hands trembling. "H–He was gonna kick m'out, man. I–I had to—" Tyron reached past the fence and grabbed the man, the other hand clenching the metal wire, absorbing it. Weed's face pressed against the fence, making him gasp.

"Did ya tell _Baron_!?" He hissed, his tone brimming with panic.

"'E was gonna kick me out! I 'ad no fuckin' choice!" Weed tried to reason. Tyron let go, stepping back, his eye wide. His heart was racing.

Tyron turned, ready to run, only to see three familiar broad shouldered men stood before him. Tyron stepped back, but the metal fence literally fenced him in. The only place he could run was into the forest, but he didn't think he could outrun these three.

"Boss wants to see you," one of them growled, reaching out for Tyron. He panicked, his power reacting, turning his hand into a blade. When the man reached out, Tyron waved his bladed hand. Immediately, two out of five of the man's fingers were amputated.

He injured man cried out, holding his hand and hissing in pain. The two others saw him and took out their guns. Immediately clear they both unloaded their clips on him.

The feeling of tens of bullets pelting him made him scream in pain. He fell to his knees, his hands instinctively covering his head. The men didn't stop for another five minutes. Tears streamed down his face and he struggled to move. The first man grabbed his arms, holding him out for the one with three remaining fingers to beat.

Boots drove into his side and chest. They kicked him between his legs, brought him up to punch him in the face, and made him grovel into the ground. Tyron tried to curl into himself, protectively, but the men wouldn't allow it. They laughed at Tyron's cries in pain, groping sensitive areas, but thankfully leaving his clothes on.

Tyron reached out for the fence, trying to get some metal in order to turn the fight around. Three-Fingers noticed and shot him in the hand. Tyron screamed, old sores and pains rising again. The man laughed, grinding his boot in his head, kicking him several times as well. Tyron could feel his gaze go blurry, and the light and darkness before him seemed to blend.

The men picked him up, and Tyron's body sagged, not even able to support his own weight. Together, they dragged him to the front gates, Tyron's head hanging, and warm tears still dripping down his chin that mixed with his darker than normal blood. His heart plummeted when he saw Baron waiting inside the 'Yard for him, his mouth turned into a smile. Like a dangerous predator being brought his prey. Like a prideful king being fed grapes.

"Hello pet," Baron mused, "I see you've found your way back home."

"Fuck... You," Tyron said, his voice gravel. His lip was swollen and eyes probably blacken and bruised, however he still managed to insult the man, making his cocky smirk slide off his face.

"Tie him up and take him to one of the rooms. I have a line of renters waiting to get their chance with you," Baron said, waving his hand.

The men continued to the men dragged him down one of the paths that stood a shady motel, which was also on the 'Yard's land. Dangerous memories resurfaced in his mind and Tyron panicked. He jolted and moved, trying to get away, only to have the men beside him hit him across the face.

"'Et go of me!!" He screamed, trying to jerk his bruised arms oh of the men's grasp. "No! No! Don't! Please!!" He was sobbing now, hysteria rising in his voice. "Please! Kill me! Don't let them—" the butt of a gun found it's target on his skull, effectively knocking him unconscious.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Two weeks later, Steve, Natasha, and Clint finally arrived back from their mission. Surprisingly, it took longer to complete their mission than they had planned. Especially with the few... Setbacks that occurred.

Steve decided it would be best to check on Tyron immediately. He had been worried for the boy, especially after the few encounters they had. With the information shared through Natasha and Tony, something was definitely wrong with this teenager, and he wanted to find out what. So, he was very surprised when Tony informed him that Tyron was gone.

"You just let him go?" Steve said, surprised.

"He said he was better," Tony reasoned. "Nat told you he made plans to meet up with one of his ' _buddies_ ', some guy named Weed, apparently. He needed to grab some things from his old place, and then he'd be set."

"Do you know where he is?" Tony rolled his eyes.

"Of course, I put a tracker on him. Gave him a necklace before he left, and some cash to get him started. He should be fine for a while."

Steve still didn't look convinced, "Where is he?" Tony sighed, sitting up in his recliner.

"JARVIS, bring up a hologram of Tyron's location."

"Yes sir." A hologram appeared between Steve and Tony. With much effort, Tony stood, zooming in.

"This is where he was Friday morning," Tony explained, zoomed in on the Avengers Tower, the time stamp in the corner showing the date and time. "Here he was that night, when he left." Tony was elsewhere, somewhere in Brooklyn around six PM, nearby a private scrapyard. "And here he is now," Again, it was the location of the scrapyard.

Stew rose an eyebrow, "He hasn't moved locations in two weeks?"

"Maybe, if he deliberately left his necklace there. Doesn't matter though — I put a tracker all the clothes I gave him too." Tony moved to a nearby computer and typed a few codes in. Then, more notifications appeared on the hologram, all in the same place.

Tony rose an eyebrow, "Maybe he got new clothes?"

"Or he could be in serious trouble," Steve frowned. "Why don't we pay him a visit?"

"He made it quite clear that he didn't want me pulling up in a shiny limo in front of his friends," Tony said, rolling his eyes at the familiar memory.

"Then, go in cover," Steve replied. "Best case scenario is that he won't be in any trouble and we just bruised his ego. Worst case. he needs help."

"Fine," Tony grumbled. "Let me get ready."


	9. 9 - Be A Consultant

**Chapter Nine:**

Steve, Tony, and Clint all arrived at the scrapyard in disguise. It was peacefully sunny outside, and the warm rays hardly baking. In the front was a man who's eyes were half closed. He blocked off the entrance to the scrapyard, slumbering softly.

Steve lightly rapped on the glass and the man jumped, looking around angrily. Finally, his dark eyes fixed on Steve and they narrowed. "What'chu want?" He demanded, his tone gruff.

"We wanted to know if a _Tyron_ was here," Steve said, trying not to sound too awkward while he said it.

For some reason the man smirked, as if there had been some kind of inside joke going on. "Gimme a second," He said, and turned away in his seat to pick up a phone. He dialed and waited, then began talking in a low enough tone that none of them could hear. He glanced back at the trio from time to time before finally setting the phone back down.

"Boss says no," he finally announced and moved to recline in his chair.

"Whose your boss?" Tony demanded.

"That ain't none of your goddamn business, so I suggest you start moving along before I make you!" The man snapped.

Steve glared at him, but Clint patted his shoulder, making him turn away. "He's not worth it. We'll find Tyron some other way." Steve sighed, but followed Clint and Tony as they walked away.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

A few night later, Steve got a call. He was sitting on the couch in his apartment, reading a book and his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He jumped, surprised. He didn't like this new technology as all the vibrating and buzzing and dinging, it was annoying.

After a second, he found the phone and answered it. "Hello?" He spoke, not getting the chance to look at the caller ID.

" _Hello, Mr. Rogers? It's Talia_ ," Talia spoke into the phone. Steve was surprised, he remembered giving her his cell phone number, but he hadn't expected her to call him.

"Oh, hey Talia, how are you?" He replied, trying not to sound too awkward. Steve hadn't told the others this, but he hated talking on the phone. It was strange to be able to talk someone, but not physically looking at them. It was always a hard concept to wrap his head around.

" _Uh, good. So, there's this kid here, he said his name was..._ Tyron _? I'm pretty sure this is the same kid that was sitting with you a couple weeks ago. He said he knows you, but I wanted to be sure_..."

" _Tyron_? Yes! Is he there now? Tell him not to move, I'm coming down," Steve ordered, standing up.

" _Yes, of course, Mr—No! Wait_!" Talia shouted, her voice falling away from the phone. Steve froze, listening carefully to the cell phone. " _Stop! Calm down, he's coming to get you, don't_ —"

" _Don't touch me_!" Tyron's voice shouted in the back. " _Don't take me back, please! M–M'sorry. Bad pet bad_ —" the phone cut off.

Steve ran, hurrying to grab a coat and the keys to his bike. He daringly dashed down the halls of the apartment. By the time he got on his bike, he hardly had time to put on his helmet before he was riding into the city.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Steve noticed that the usual illuminated ' **OPEN** ' sign in the front was turned off, but there were still employees milling around, cleaning. Steve knocked on the door and the closest one, who had been sweeping the lobby, ran to open it. "Hello Mr. Rogers!" She was a younger employee, probably no older than fourteen or fifteen. She was Hispanic with her silky thick hair pulled into a bun that was over the visors they wore. She gave him a wide smile, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement.

"Hey there," he smiled politely. "Do you know where I can find Talia?"

The girl nodded, "Yeah, she should be in the back with that boy earlier. He was freaking out, like, having a panic attack. Talia calmed him down, but he won't let anyone near him, and whenever Talia tries to go, he starts freaking out again." The girl looked concerned, her brow drawn.

Steve smiled, "Thank you..." He looked at her name tag, " _Ainsley_. That's a pretty name."

A ferocious blush spread on Ainsley's face, and she turned, "Ye–Yeah, you're welcome, Mr. Rogers," she replied, her voice strained.

Steve chuckled, walking through the door. He other employees lead him to the back, where there were two teenagers washing dishes, and a closed door. Steve knocked on the door as one of the others instructed. A second later, the door creaked open, revealing a rather worn down Talia. As soon as she saw him relief spread on her face.

"Oh, thank god," she breathed, dragging him in the room. Tyron was sitting in a swivel chair, his knees drawn to his chest, his arms covering his head, and he was muttering. He wore a baggy shirt, which looked beaten and worn, and long jeans that were cut to the thigh, and had holes in the knees.

"Bad pet bad pet bad pet bad pet bad..." He repeated like a mantra.

"What's wrong with him?" Steve asked, his tone hushed.

"I–I don't know," Talia truthfully admitted. "He won't let me touch him, and I can't get him to do anything else. I tried to talk to him, and he didn't respond. Did–Did something happen?"

"We don't know," Steve sighed. "Can I?"

"Yes, of course, Mr. Rogers," Talia nodded, stepping out of the room. As soon as the door opened, Tyron shot his head up, looking at Talia. His eyes wide with fear and swollen from tears. He looked like a scared child, he was terrified.

"No! Please, don't leave! They're gonna—oh god, no, please!" Talia immediately came back inside, closing the door.

"Hey, hey, shh, it's okay," she whispered. "I'm still here, I'm still here. Don't worry." She moved to hold his hand and he took it, holding tight. He stared at Steve, his eyes wide, as if he had never seen the man in his life.

"Tyron?" Steve said carefully, "It's me, Steve, remember? Can you talk to me? Tell me what happened, we can help." Tyron didn't reply, but he did physically shift away from him, his eyes darting all around, not focusing on the man. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Tony said he dropped you back at the scrapyard. Did someone hurt you? Talk to me."

Tyron looked at him, then turned to Talia with an awfully pained expression, "Please, don't make me—I do–don't want to—"

"You don't have to do anything, honey," Talia assured. "But, could you answer Mr. Rogers' questions?"

Tyron stared at her, "Th–That's all?" She nodded, " _Really_?"

"Yes, now can you answer his questions?" Tyron gave a slight nod. Talia turned to Steve, and gave him a nod of affirmation.

"Okay, Tyron, what happened in the past three weeks?" Tyron looked uncomfortable, looking down.

"Baron..." He muttered, "He–He made me... I... I didn't want to, but..." He closed his eyes, trying to breathe. "I couldn't leave, I barely did... He's gonna kill me, oh god, he's—!"

"Next question, next question," Steve interrupted his panic, and began talking again. "When was the last time you ate?"

Tyron didn't answer for a minute, trying to calm down his breathing, "Thr–Three weeks... He wouldn't — He wouldn't let me..."

"I understand. Do you remember me? Who I am? Do you recognize me?"

"I..." Tyron looked at Steve face for a moment, then nodded. "Ye–Yeah, I..." He looks down, and somehow managed a dry chuckle, "I... Thought you were a dream... He made me think... I..."

"You're not dreaming," Steve said, chuckling.

"M'sorry, I shouldn't 'ave left, I–I needed... 'Is picture, I needed it..."

"Who's picture?" Tyron reached into his shirt, somehow being able to pull out a small, folded up photograph. After unfolding it for a  moment, he showed to Steve and Talia.

It was a old, 2010 Kodak picture of a tall teenager boy, young boy and a younger girl. Each one of them were holding basketballs and wearing matching sets of a basketball jersey. Tyron laughed, his tears staining the picture. "I–I couldn't leave 'em."

"I understand, it's okay," Steve assured. "Do you want to go back to the Tower? I–I have my bike and we can enter though the back?" Tyron shook his head, and Steve felt his heart plummet. He was making _progress_! "Why not?"

"I–I wanna stay 'ere," He said, his hands shaking as he tried to fold back up the paper. "Th–They're is too many, I don't—" Tyron didn't have a choice. Before he could even finish his thought, Steve brought his hands to the base of his neck, squeezed, and Tyron slumped against his arm.

"Oh my!" Talia jumped, surprised.

"It's okay," Steve assured. "Old army trick when they were in shock. He'll be fine." He pulled Tyron up, wrapping his arm around his neck, creating a false sense of balance. He pulled out his phone, calling Tony. He told Stark he found Tyron and that he — and his bike — needed to be picked up. Then, he hung up on the man before he had the chance to make a terrible pun.

"Thank you so much, Talia," Steve told the woman as they walked out of the small office. The employees had all finished cleaning for the day, leaving only two who were still waiting on their rides home.

"My pleasure, Mr. Rogers," Talia said, smiling softly at him.

"No, really," Steve insisted. "We — I wouldn't have had a chance to find him. I don't even know why he came _here_ , of all places."

"Me neither. He came in running, didn't even order anything. He just sat in the corner of the booth, shaking like a leaf. Thought he was cold, but when it was closing, he still hadn't left." Talia gave Tyron a look of pity, "Poor kid. I hope you guys work out whatever happened to him. He seemed like a nice kid too."

Steve thought about Tyron's coarse language, uncontrolled anger, bad attitude and pessimism. "Yeah," he laughed, "He's a _great_ kid."


	10. 10 - Be A Confidant

**Chapter Ten:**

"I'm gonna _kill_ whoever did this," Tony growled. He was pacing in front of the rest of the Avengers, excluding Bruce.

"We need to find who did it first, Tony," Natasha chided, her arms folded on the couch. "Stop that, or you'll burn holes in the floor." Tony gave her a half-hearted glare, but sat anxiously. His leg bounced under him, but no one said anything about it.

"We know the man's name — it's Baron," Steve spoke, to no one in particular.

"He's a crime lord in east Brooklyn," Tony supplied, having previously researched the man in curiosity. "Responsible for several murders, and a major drug dealer. Why Tyron had any kind of connection to him, I don't know."

"What do you mean?" Clint asked, leaning forwards.

"This is the kind of man that would shoot a man's child in front of them, or even have the child shoot the father themselves. He's apparently hired a lot of people with the X-gene, which adds to fire power on his side. We don't know everyone's for sure, and a few we can tell you by seeing them."

"Do you think they tortured him?" Natasha asked, skeptically.

"I don't know," Steve shrugged. "Maybe they found out that he was staying here and—" Bruce ran in the room, his eyes wide, hair slightly disheveled. It took him a second to get his bearings straight, before he looked at Natasha.

"I need you, Nat," Bruce said, almost frantically.

"What for?" She asked, standing.

"Is something going on?" Tony demanded, "Why only Nat? I—"

"Just–Just trust me on this one," Bruce said, waving Natasha over. Hesitantly, she fell in line with him. The room in a hushed quiet as they left.

Clint was the one who broke it, "How did he get tangled up in all this...?" He mumbled, rubbing his face tiredly.

"Dunno," Tony grumbled.

"What we _do_ know," Steve began, "Is that he's safe now. He needs to know that, when Bruce is finally done with him. Let this be a safe environment, that way, he won't freak out anymore." There were nods of agreement from the other two men. Tony stood again, pacing, and Steve let out a sigh.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Bruce led Natasha to the hallway outside of the Infirmary. "What's going on?" She asked, but Bruce shushed her, glancing in the room. Tyron was still, since he had been sedated heavily upon arriving at the tower.

"I–I was trying to find what causing him to be this way — mentally — and I found this," Bruce moved to the side of the room, picking off a few photos and handed one to her. Natasha looked over it, her eyebrow quirking as she handed it back to him.

"Bruises?" She asked, confused.

"All over his body, but mostly on his leg — _between_ his legs." Natasha looked taken back in realization.

"Oh, my god, you don't mean—"

"He was raped. _Repeatedly_. There's rope burns on his wrists and ankles suggesting he was tied up." Bruce removed his glasses in order to rub the bridge of his nose.

Natasha was quiet for several moments, "We should tell the others."

"No," Bruce denied instantly.

"Why not? This is serious, Bruce. He's not in the right mind space right now, he needs to go see someone about this!"

"I don't think he'd want us to," Bruce said, choosing his words carefully. "Look at how secretive this is. We talk to him first, tell him we know, then see what he'd want. We need to gain his trust."

Natasha looked at the doctor, then down at the picture. She ran her hands through her hair and sighed, "You're right." Bruce nodded, and glanced in the hospital room. Tyron was shifting in his sleep, starting to finally wake up.

"And, there's another thing," Bruce said, not looking Natasha. "When he does wake up, I want you to be the ones to greet him." Natasha opened her mouth to speak, but Bruce cut her off. "If he has been raped, then that's probably why he's so anxious around men. Remember when we first met him? At breakfast? He was scared because there were too many men in the room — he felt outnumbered and it must have triggered something. He wasn't scared when you approached him though, and when Steve said that he went to that café, he wasn't scared when that woman approached him. He knows you Nat, even though he might not show it. He's more likely to not panic again if he sees you opposed to seeing us."

"Okay, okay," Natasha said, "You're right. I'll do it."

"Thank you," Bruce gave the woman a small smile, which, surprisingly, she returned. "I'll call you when he actually starting to wake up. Will be any minute now."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron's eyes were heavy when he finally woke up. His body felt weighed down, his senses dulled. He slowly looked around, it was bright and the room smelled like... Rubbing alcohol. There were a few machines running on the sides of the bed he was on, and a table with a stack of papers behind it.

A door on the left side of the room opened, Tyron turned and tensed. A woman stepped through, giving him a kind smile, "Hey, Tyron," She greeted him gently, pulling up a chair to sit beside his bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Where..." He gasped, his throat was sore, probably from the... Screaming. Screaming? Why was he—

_They dragged his body from the bed, the ropes digging into his skin as he limply fell from him. The men around him laughed heartily, some of them were smoking and pushed their half lit buds in his skin. He winced, but otherwise didn't react._

_They looped him on a hook in the ceiling, letting him hang down, his body bare and he shivered. The men around him began to undress boasting about the great fun they were going to have with him. One of them had already finished and began to start, digging his fingers in his—_

"Tyron?" He jumped, moving away, his entire body trembling. "Hey, hey, calm down, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Stop... Stop...!" He clenched his head, his body trembling, "Please, don't let 'em—"

Natasha shushed him gently, speaking soothing words to him, but he couldn't understand her anymore. All he could remember were his screams.

_"Stop!!" He begged, struggling on the ropes on his arms, which only made him look like a fish out of water. The men laughed around him, one of them grabbed a chair, trying to stick it down his—_

"I know you're scared, Tyron, I understand," Natasha spoke calmly. "It's okay, I know what happened, I know what they did to you." Tyron turned at this, surprised.

"You—?"

"They raped you, didn't they?" Tyron's face twisted as tears began to run down them. He let out a choked sob, and Natasha allowed him to come to her, crying into his arms.

Natasha held him for several minutes, speaking soothing words as he sobbed. He hated crying, he vaguely realized. It made him seem weak, something he hated for people to think of him as. At the same time, he... Hadn't had the chance express himself like this in years. When he was younger, he'd go to his brother, but after his brother died, it was just him. Nobody would take him seriously if he cried at everything. They'd think he was a girl — it made him feel like a girl.

Tyron pulled away, and looked down. Natasha was watching him, but hadn't said anything. After several minutes of uneasy silence, he finally spoke, "Thanks..." He murmured, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable.

"You're welcome. Do you need anything else?" Natasha asked.

"Can I — Can I shower?" He asked hesitantly.

"Of course."

"And... Somethin' to eat..." The thought of food made his stomach twist painfully. "I–I haven't eaten in a while..."

"Definitely. I'll talk to Tony. Is that all?"

"Clothes?" He squirmed, he did not like asking for stuff. "A–A hoodie an' jeans are fine..."

"I'll talk to Tony. Come on," she gave him a hand, helping him out of the bed and led him out of the room.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron stared in the mirror before him, expressionless. He didn't recognize who stared back. Their eyes were so dark, bags hanging under them. Small scars from past skirmishes littered his cheekbones. He drew his brow and the image before him creased his as well. His forehead wrinkled, and the image looked five times older. Five times more worn.

The eyes, they were the oddest part. They were cold. They were the eyes of a soldier coming home from war, after seeing the horrors it could bring. He didn't like the eyes, he didn't like how it burrowed into his head. He half expected to see burning holes in his flesh, but none appeared.

A rapping on the door made him jump. He slipped on a towel on the floor and hit his head on the marble tub. "Tyron? Is everything okay?" He groaned, holding his head in pain. He could feel a warm substance coating his hands. "Tyron?! I'm coming in, okay?"

He remembered that he was naked and screamed, "No!" Natasha stopped, and he was panting, "No, m'fine. You jus' scared m'and I slipped. Sorry."

"That's okay. I'm have your clothes, I'm going to set them outside the door, alright?"

"M'kay," he groaned, trying to sit up, and hissed in pain.

" _I suggest bringing in a first-aid kit_ ," JARVIS' voice rang through the hall. " _Mr. Tyron requires medical assistance_."

"' _Medical assistance_ '?" Natasha repeated outside the door, "What happened? Are you bleeding!?"

"M'fine! M'fine! Lemme get dressed," he assured in a panic.

Natasha was silent for a beat but sighed, "Fine. Hurry up."

"M'kay." He heard her footsteps leaving, and sighed, going to the door and grabbing his clothes. While he dressed himself in the warm clothes, he commented, "Fuck you, JARVIS."

" _I'm afraid that isn't quite possible, for I am not a sentient being_ ," Tyron rolled his eyes, and hurried to finish getting dressed.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"Ow!" He complained as Natasha dabbed the cut with rubbing alcohol.

"Stop complaining," she chided, dabbing more, and wiping a bit at the blood.

"It wasn't that bad— _ow!_ " Tyron reached to stop her, but she swatted at his hand.

"It _was_ that bad," she muttered. "I'm almost done." Tyron grumbled, but allowed her to finish cleaning up the rest and then she stuck a bandage on it. "There. Done."

"Thanks." Natasha hummed her reply as the elevator opened and Tony stepped out.

"Hey, kid," Tony smirked as Natasha moved to the kitchenette, searching through the fridge. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Tyron replied. "Thanks for..." Tyron hesitated, "Findin' me."

"No problem," Tony shrugged, deciding to sit on the couch.

"I'll leave soon, if ya want," Tyron spoke. Tony rose an eyebrow at the teenager. "I'm sure I can find somewhere else to go. There's another 'Yard down in Bronx, I can go there."

"Really?" Tyron nodded, "That's a shame, 'cause, I found a great place for you." Tyron rose an eyebrow, "Really! Here me out. I talked to the people who run it, and they don't mind mutants, or strange teenage boys. They don't care what you do, as long as it's legal. They'll feed you, give you money if and when you need it. They even want you to go back to school."

Tyron rose an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Yep. They said you can come in today, they've already got everything set up."

"Oh..." Tyron was at a loss for words. "Thanks... I... Where _is_ this place...?"

"Exactly one floor underneath this one," Tony gave a cheeky grin. "I talked to the people who run it and... Yeah, they're pretty fine with you staying, kid."

Tyron scoffed, "Ya such an asshole," he muttered.

"If I had a nickel for every time someone told me that... I'd be able to buy another Tower." Tyron snorted, and even Natasha chuckled from the kitchen. "Anyways, what do you think? 'Cause I think it's one of the best offers ya got."

"Hm... I'll have to think about it an' git back to ya," Tyron said, making a face. "Yes, I believe ya right. I s'pose I'll have to take it."

Tony grinned, "Good choice."

"It was a good offer," Tony laughed. "Thank ya," Tyron said, his tone serious. "Really. Thanks."

"It's the least I can do," Tony shrugged, "'Sides, I'm pretty sure I can squeeze you somewhere." Tyron laughed, rolling his eyes and hitting the man in the arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once, I give my baby's a happy ending — for now.
> 
> We'll be moving into the AoU arc soon~! I can't wait! What do ya'll think of Tyron, and his background? I tried to 'censor' it as much as possible, not using key words, referring to things as 'it'. I changed the warnings to Mature instead of whatever the other one is, just to be safe.
> 
> I know, a lot of my other stories have reference to sexual abuse/harassment, but since it's not as explicit as there isn't as much strong language in those as there is in this one, it felt fitting.
> 
> Welp, that's all for now! I'll see y'all next time, and remember...
> 
> Don't melt~!  
> ~Happyritas 


	11. 11 - Be A Teacher

**Chapter Eleven:**

Steve was getting ready for a run when he stopped in front of the Tower door. He had been staying there since Tyron had came in, deciding that it would be best to have familiar people around to help get him settled.

Tyron hadn't been doing well, either. For one, he hasn't been sleeping at all, and when he did, someone — mostly Nat or Bruce — were called into his room to calm him down before he could hurt himself. He also hasn't been eating as much too, keeping himself locked in the room that Tony gave him.

Steve wanted to help, but didn't quite know how. He was considering taking Tyron on his runs. It could help grow both of their relationships with each other, and hopefully make him a bit more sociable.

"JARVIS, is Tyron awake?" Steve asked the AI. He didn't want to bother him if he was sleeping.

" _Yes, but_ ," The AI hesitated. " _The situation seems a bit delicate at the moment_."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked with a frown.

" _He is wielding a kitchen knife, and seems rather agitated. I would suggest keeping him calm if you are to make contact with Mr. Tyron_."

" _Ah_ ," was all he was able to manage. He pushed the button on the elevator for his floor. In the meantime, he was trying to think of something that might be reasonable enough to say. "Silent mode, please," Steve requested and instantly the ' _Silent Elevator_ ' mode was initiated.

As the machine slowed to a stop and the door opened, Steve carefully reviewed the scene. He was sitting at a counter, a kitchen blade in his hand, his arm pressed against the other. The knife was sawing against his hand and Steve nearly interjected when he realized the significant lack of blood. He was _absorbing_ it.

"Come on! _Cut_! Kill me already, damnit!" He hissed at the knife, "What the fuck is wrong with it!? Why won't it kill me!? Why—" his voice broke off in a sob. "Please. I don'—!" His shoulders shook with his sobs in pain, "God it hurts! I don' wanna see 'im anymore! I don' wanna feel 'im anymore!!" As if his words were creating the exact contrary, he shuddered, more tears spilling out.

Tyron's fingers gripped the knife, stabbing it into his hand, but the metal merely sank into his skin, completely absorbed. "Stop it!" He screamed, turning the knife to his chest, his throat, his legs, his heart, but nothing penetrated. Metal couldn't cut him. Soon, it was reduce to a mere handle, nothing to try to cut himself with.

Tyron leaned over the counter, and cried. Steve decided it would be best to leave the boy alone, stepping back in the elevator and moving as fast away as fast as he could.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"So," Natasha spoke as Tyron laid on the couch, tossing a ball in the air. "When do you plan on going back to school?"

"I dunno," Tyron replied honestly. "I left school in seventh grade. I hardly remember any of the shit they taught, I don't know if I can even place into anywhere. I think it'll jus' be best if I stay 'ere."

"You told Tony you'd go," Natasha reminded, pulling up a chair. She was eating a bowl of popcorn, and offered him a box of loose screws. Tyron thanked her, popping a few in his mouth.

"I know but," Tyron sighed, cutting himself off. "Don't'cha think it'll be easier I stay 'ere? I–I mean..." Tyron trailed off.

"Are you scared, Tyron?" Natasha asked, and the boy flinched.

"No!" He lied, turning away. "M'not scared! It's jus'... I haven't been to a school in years! I don't think I could do... Anythin' that'll get m'caught up to whatever the hell they're doin' right now..."

"We can tutor you to get to that point, you know," Natasha said, smiling. "Don't worry. We'll be right there, and if you need help, or if you think you can't handle it, we can move you somewhere else. We just think that it'll be good for you to be around kids your age." And, it should help rehabilitate him, Natasha thought. If he makes some friends, then he might be more open and expressive opposed to how shut off and scared he is now.

"M'kay," Tyron agreed, putting the box of screws on the coffee table. He didn't want to tell her what happened last time, how the kids were horrible to him. Humiliating him in front of the whole school, some had even tried to get close with him, touching him in inappropriate places, laughing when he told them to stop.

They kept the gym teacher out of the locker room while the other boys harassed him, pushing him around, groping his chest, slapping him. Tyron felt small, he hated it. He wanted them to stop, he tried to, then one pushed him on the ground, allowing them to kick and stomp him repeatedly. Tyron screamed at them, but they didn't stop. He swore and tried to fight back, but when he did, they only hit harder.

They laughed at him, mocked him, teased him, just like Baron would. He could hear the man chuckling as he handed him over to another renter, as if he were a toy, allowing other people to borrow him. He was a toy. He was a pet. He was a bad pet, a bed pet, a bad pet, a bad—

"Hey, Tyron, shh," Natasha said, embracing him. He was shaking, but realized that he drifted off. Shaking his head, he turned to Natasha, who was just letting go. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I..." He hesitated, "I jus' got lost in thought. That's all."

Natasha gave him a wary look. "If you say so... Well, when do you want to start?"

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron had been studying with Bruce and Tony for a few months now. They allowed him to go at his own pace, explaining things when he really didn't understand it. At first it was hard and a bit overwhelming, since he hadn't been in a ' _school_ ' environment for nearly three or four years, but he quickly adjusted to it.

His easiest subject was surprisingly math. He remembered being shit at it before he left but, he guessed after all the drugs he sold, he learned to use it pretty well. He was also good at science — mainly biology and human anatomy, for... Obvious reasons. He wasn't so good at history. It was a lot of memorization, so it sometimes tripped him up. English was fine, but he did need to work on it more.

All in all, he was rather surprised at how quickly he learned and even more so when Bruce and Tony revealed that he could go to public school.

"We think you're about ready," Tony grinned.

"Are–Are ya sure?" Tyron asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah," Bruce agreed. "You're doing much better than we thought you would, to be honest. You really should be more than capable to join public school."

"Besides, if you find it too hard, we can still pull you out and tutor you here," Tony assured. "I gotta head out, so Brucie can help explain stuff to you, right?"

Bruce nodded, "Where are you heading?"

"Meeting. I'll tell you more about that later." Bruce nodded and Tony grinned, waving at the two before leaving the room.

Tyron sighed, running a hand down his face. "You don't have to do this," Bruce spoke up. "If–If you feel uncomfortable, then—"

"No," Tyron mumbled, "I wanna do this. It's jus'... Is it okay if I don't go to school 'ere? In the city? What if I went down to, uhm, Queens?"

" _Queens_?" Tyron gave a hesitant nod. "I mean, sure, I guess. I'll have to talk to Tony about it, there's bound to be a few public schools in that area. I don't know about transportation though—"

"I can take the Sub," Tyron assured, and Bruce nodded, agreeing.

"Okay then," Bruce said, standing, "I'll arrange it with Tony."

Tyron nodded, standing, "Thanks," he said, relieved. "For everythin'."

"You're welcome," Bruce replied, smiling. "Ill be right back, I gotta grab something. Why don't you look through your History stuff while I'm gone?"

"M'kay," Tyron nodded, moving to sit at the couch. As soon as Bruce left, Tyron let out a shuddering sigh. He wanted to believe that Baron wouldn't be able to get him in the city, but he couldn't. It was too close to the 'Yard, and he had far too many connections. Queens was far, far enough for him not to look for him. Besides, the last place Baron would believe he'd be was back in school. He had the element of surprise on his side, all he had to do was keep the attention drawn away from hisself.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron stepped into the classroom awkwardly. Behind him was the school's guidance counselor, who was giving him a tour of the school. He tried not to seem nervous as the eye of nearly thirty teenagers turned his way. A student, who was laughing with one of his friends walked towards the door, nearly shoving past him to get out, causing Tyron to stumble away.

The teacher, a rather young woman, probably in her early thirties stepped forward. She had long, rusty red hair and freckles displayed across her nose.

The guidance counselor placed a hand on Tyron's shoulder and he barely stopped himself from jumping. "This is Tyron, he'll be joining you class," the woman told the teacher. "He has his schedule, but it'd be good have a student with him so he can learn his way around."

"Okay," the teacher smiled, then turned to Tyron. "Hello, I'm Ms. Dunes. Right now, we're working on a group project, you're welcome to join any group you want, they can explain what they're doing." Tyron nodded and began to stalk off, but the guidance counselor held onto his arm. Tyron visibly flinched, yanking his arm away, but the guidance counselor didn't seem to notice. Ms. Dunes was giving him an odd look, though.

"Your... Guardian called in earlier and told me to remind you to come straight home, or call if you need a ride. The last thing I want in this school is a big disturbance if he lands in the middle of the school parking lot in his big metal suit. So, when dismissal rolls around, please inform him that in order to keep the peace, he should leave the suit at home, or... Wherever he keeps it."

"Oh... Uhm... Yeah, okay," Tyron said, rubbing his arm.

"Good," the woman walked off. Tyron began to walk towards the different tables, going to the nearest one available. There was a boy with brown hair and a pudgy Hispanic kid, with greasy hair.

"Can I sit here?" Tyron asked, and the two shrugged.

"Yeah, sure," the brown haired boy said, moving. Tyron went to a nearby empty desk and pulled a chair from it. "I'm Peter," he said, holding out his hand for Tyron to shake.

"Tyron," Tyron replied, shaking his hand. "What're ya workin' on?"

"English project," the Hispanic boy replied, "Basically, we read _To Kill A Mockingbird_ in class, and we have to make a presentation for it. We're nearly done, actually, we just need to finish the drawings, and we should be good. I'm _Ned_ , by the way, _Ned Leeds_." Tyron nodded at the introduction, shaking his hand too.

"Except, we're both pretty bad artists," Peter chuckled. "We'll probably look online for a picture or something."

"Oh," Tyron replied, glancing over at the laptop that they were using. "I could do it," he suggested, a bit shyly.

"What?" Peter asked, confused.

"The–The drawin's, I could draw 'em for ya if ya want," he shrugged. The door opened and Tyron turned around. It was the student from earlier. A guy with a heavy red and white varsity jacket on. He looked over at one of the desks and frowned.

"Wow, really?" Peter continued, surprised.

"Yeah, sure, I—" a hand clenched his shoulder and a voice growled above him. Tyron froze, tensing up.

"Did you take my fucking chair?"a male voice growled at him. Before he could say a word, e grabbed the legs of the chair out from underneath him, and yanked. Tyron fell on the ground with a surprised gasp, and the rest of the class responded in an uproar of laughter. Mrs. Dunes shushed the class, scolding the student who simply shrugged the woman off.

Peter rose, coming to Tyron's side, helping him up, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'll live," Tyron grumbled. Peter, Ned and Tyron continued to work, and Tyron grabbed a sheet of paper, hurriedly sketching on it while the two other boys described the characters to him. The bell rang and Ms. Dunes called the end of class, and they went to their next period.

"Your next period?" Peter asked as they packed up the rest of their stuff.

"... Science," Tyron replied, "With J. Glades?"

"Jenifier," Ned clarified, "That's good though — that's our next class too." Tyron followed the two as they walked down the hall to their next class.

"An' after that, it's lunch, right?" Tyron asked and the two nodded. "If ya write the descriptions of the characters, I can draw 'em during lunch."

"Sounds good," Peter agreed as the duo entered the classroom.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Lunch had finally came, and Tyron's grade went to the lunchroom, or outside, if they perferred. Tyron, however, found the library, and began to finish the drawings Peter needed there. Due to the nature of the setting, it was very quiet, allowing Tyron to be with his thoughts.

The guy that pulled Tyron's chair earlier was definitely a jackass, and after several times it had definitely been tried and true. Luckily, he would probably be in the lunchroom at the moment, so Tyron didn't need to worry about them.

As he sketched out the characters, and used the computers to look up references, he was a bit surprised that the last time he had had the chance to draw, was nearly a two months ago, while he was with Baron, on a napkin in Central Park. So much has happened since then, and he could barely manage to remember it all too.

He chuckled at the absurdity of it all. Who would've thought that someone like him could meet someone like Tony or Natasha? He was grateful, definitely, they saved his life, to the point that there would be no way for him to properly thank them.

Tyron continued to draw, deciding that in doing well here, at school, he could show his thanks to them. He smirked a little, starting on the next one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -0 - 0 -
> 
> Sorry, shortish chapter, I was going to write more, but I thought that was a good place to end it.
> 
> And, yes, Peter will be playing a pretty big role in this story — and possible love interest. I know, I know, I don't usually write romance, but, damn it, my bby needs to love someone, it's gonna drive him mad, lol.
> 
> Anyways, I've reviewed the trailers that are out for Spider-Man: Homecoming — literally can't wait — and I'm pretty sure this will be correct, if not I'll have to go back to change it. Also, I noticed in the trailer that Michelle — the one Zendaya plays — doesn't, or really, hasn't interacted with Peter and Ned. This lead me to believe that they don't really become friends until later in the story. And, since I am still at AoU and not at the end of CA:CW, their relationship hasn't developed yet. Maybe she's new, or maybe they don't become friends until shit hits Spidey's fan, whatever.
> 
> So, I haven't put her in the story. Maybe I'll add her later, as more trailers come out, or when I actually watch the movie, whichever comes first, but until then, sorry, mom will have to be on the sidelines.
> 
> I hope that explanation makes sense, sorry for the confusion! I'll see y'all next time, and remember...
> 
> Don't melt~!  
> ~ Happyritas 


	12. 12 - Be An Athlete

**Chapter Twelve:**

"Are you liking it so far?" Steve asked Tyron. He was sitting on his bed, writing something down. Steve stood near the doorway, leaning against the wall. Under him was a wall-mounted basketball hoop.

"Yeah," Tyron replied as he finished another math question. He turned the page to start another, frowning a bit.

"Made any friends yet?"

"Uh-huh."

"Like who?" Tyron look up a him, his brow raised.

"Is somethin' _wrong_?" He asked skeptically.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"'Cause," He frowned, "Ya always interrogate m'when somethin's up."

"This _isn't_ an interrogation," Steve assured.

"Uh-huh..." Tyron turned back to his homework. There was a short pause before Tyron spoke again. "I ain't doin' any drugs anymore if that's what ya worried 'bout."

"I'm not worried about that," Steve said, a bit surprised that _that_ was what he concluded.

"An' I haven't been in contact wit' anyone from the 'Yard either. Baron's been silent, from wha' I've seen. Maybe he's lookin' for me, I dunno. So, ya can cut ya worryin' short. It makes ya look ol' anyway."

Steve let out a scoff, "I think I'm allowed to worry about you, at least a little."

"Yeah, I s'pose, but I wish ya wouldn't though."

"Why?" Steve asked, and Tyron sighed, scratching his hair, which had grown a lot longer lately, creating a bit of a small Afro. He reminded himself to cut it soon.

"'Cause," Tyron grumbled. "Worryin' means ya care, an' if ya care then it's that much harder when it hurts."

"When what hurts?"

" _Anythin_ '." Tyron glared at his homework, "This problem is fuckin' stupid."

"Don't swear," Steve scolded and the teenager rolled his eyes. "What is it?"

"Algebra," Tyron glared at his paper for another moment. Then, his gaze softened, "Oh, wait, nah. M'stupid." He erased something, then scribbled something else down. "'Ere we go." He closed his book and set his school stuff on the desk across from his bed. "Are ya doin' anythin' later?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Are ya?"

Steve frowned, thinking about his schedule, which had been pretty vacant today. The only thing he had was a meeting regarding Loki's staff, which they held while Tyron had been at school. Other than that, he was clear. "No."

"Cool. Go grab some tennis shoes."

"Why? Where are we going?"

" _Out_ ," Tyron gave him a boyish grin, tying his own shoes on. "Hurry up! I haven't got all day."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"Where are we?" Steve asked, following Tyron. Tyron had him drive down to Queens on his motorcycle, and now they were walking around. It was about three o'clock, so nearly all of the schools had been out. Meaning, all of the teenagers and young people were roaming the streets.

Tyron led Steve down a few blocks before turning a corner and heading towards a fenced off area. "Hey guys," Tyron greeted, and a few heads turned their way at the familiar voice.

"Yo Ty, what's up?" A young male replied, stepping forward. He was very light skinned, almost a crisp-brown colour, and his face littered with dark freckles. He had long hair, which was dark and wildly curly. He tied it back with a low ponytail though, only leaving a few lone strands in his face. He had on shorts and a white tee-shirt, and wore a cheeky grin.

The two boys did a handshake that Steve recognized — Sam had done it all the time with his colleagues and even showed Steve how to do it once or twice. "Who's that?" The boy said, motioning to Steve.

Before he could answer, another kid had already exclaimed, " _Holy shit_!" They were holding a basketball and we're looking in their direction. " _Captain America_!" In seconds, Steve was swarmed with several teenagers, both boy and a few girls, eager to meet him.

Steve gave the adolescents a awkward wave, still confused at his position in this. It was Tyron who spoke up, "Guys!" His voice was drowned out in the voices, " _Hey_!" Finally, heads began to turn his way, some slightly annoyed that he had interrupted their interaction with the Super Soldier. "I _think_ 'e wants to play." Tyron gave a pointed look at Steve, who blinked slightly.

"I... Don't know how," Steve admitted, which was true. He wasn't the best athlete when he was young, and even though he ran on a regular basis now, he didn't really take it upon himself to learn the rules to some sports.

At his confession the kids all began to shout again, offering to teach him. Steve turned to Tyron, who smirked, making a small ' _go on_ ' movement with his hands. "Let's go!" A kid shouted, and the group split. The team captains were quickly decided by the two oldest, and between them, they had to flip a coin to see who got Steve. Soon, he was sorted away, as were the rest of the kids.

Steve noticed that Tyron had been one of the last to be picked, probably because he was new, but soon all the kids were chosen for their teams. The team that didn't have Steve on their team got ball first, which was fair. Steve also notice that Tyron was on that team as well.

The game started, and they broke. The kids who weren't playing cheered Steve's team on, biased due to him being an avenger. However, there were a few rooting for Tyron's team as well.

Steve was divided between watching how to play and actually playing the game. He watched as the kids dribbled the basketball, moving around. Sometimes, they would pass it to one another in order to get out of a bad spot when their opponents would surround them. Several times, Steve himself was passed the ball and he tried to copy their movements, dribbling the ball and shooting it to whomever was closest to their basket and seemed open.

Steve noticed that Tyron was very easily turning the game in his team's favour. He was surprisingly nimble on his feet, able to steal the ball from the dribblers, and shoot a basket from nearly halfway across the court. The kids soon realized how well Tyron was playing and began to try to stop him, but by the time they realized, it had been far too late for the game, and Tyron team had won by nearly thirty points higher than Steve's.

They played three more games, and with each one Tyron was getting slowly more popular. Although Steve was still chosen over most of the kids — due to his stamina, height, and strength — Tyron was usually followed. It wasn't uncommon to have the two playing against the ball, as if they were on a real court with a crowd of fans cheering for their respective teams around them. In a way, it was thrilling.

However, it soon got late, and the street lights turned on — which was usually the universal sign that everyone had to go home, unless they wanted to get whipped by their awaiting mothers.

A few congratulated Tyron as he left, and some even asked for Steve's picture. By the time Steve and Tyron were ready to go, he was waving goodbye to his friend, "See ya around, Lars." Tyron said, heading back for Steve's bike.

"You too, Ty," Lars — short for Laurence, apparently — grinned cheekily, his cheeks dimpling. "An' bring Captain America next time too! That was fun!" Tyron laughed at his friend's remark, sending one last wave, before jumping on the back of Steve's bike.

Steve gave him and himself a helmet before speeding off, getting back to the Tower in no time. "That _was_ fun," Steve commented as they parked into the Tower's garage. Tyron nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "You do that often?"

"Used to," Tyron replied. "A long time ago."

"You're really good at it. _Basketball_ , I mean."

"Thanks," Tyron smirked, "And ya weren't as bad as I thought ya be."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tyron laughed, turning to head towards the elevator.

"Well, for a big, clumsy guy like ya self, I was a bit worried ya'd trip over a kid or somethin'," Tyron confessed. "But, hey, ya did good."

"I'm not _clumsy_ ," Steve frowned, but his eyes were playful. He stepped into the elevator, allowing it to rise soundlessly.

"Ya so are," Tyron denied. "Dude, ya tripped outta the elevator the other day."

" _Accident_ ," Steve replied briskly. "Won't happen again."

"Sure," Tyron chuckled, leaning against the elevator wall.

Steve was silent for a moment before speaking again, "Why did you bring me with you?" Steve asked carefully.

"Hm?"

"You let me come, hang out with you today. I was under the conception that you didn't _like_ me."

"I don't." Steve visibly deflated, and Tyron couldn't help a laugh. " _Kiddin_ '. I thought ya'd want to... Ya did, didn't ya?" Tyron voice was hesitant.

"Yeah, I had fun," Steve assured.

"Good," Tyron smirked. "Ya aren't _that bad_ of a guy, ya know."

Steve rose an eyebrow, not quite sure how to take that, "Thanks...?"

Tyron laughed again, "Really, ya aren't. Besides, I had to make up for it, anyway."

"For what? You don't owe me anything."

"I do," Tyron replied. "I owe ya a lot. I mean, god," Tyron's gaze turned to the ground. "I would've been stuck 'ere, ya know. If it 'adn't been for ya, I would... I would still be wit' Baron. I don' think I would've lived too long wit' 'im."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked concerned. He didn't get an answer because the elevator doors opened, revealing the open kitchen and living room. Tony was on the couch, watching CNN, his brow furrowed. There was a half empty box of pizza on the metal coffee table before him. Tony paused it, however, when he noticed the duo coming in.

"Where've you two been?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow, probably noticing the matching sweat-drenched shirts the two males wore.

" _Queens_. On the court," Tyron replied, glancing at the television, reading the headline. ' **SHOOTING IN QUEENS, NY. SUSPECT THOUGHT TO BE A MUTANT**.' Tyron let out a groan, "Turn it off. I don't wanna 'ear that..."

Unlike Tyron, Steve seemed a little interested, "What happened?"

"Apparently, some kid was picked up a bag after some guy dropped it," Tony explained. "He was trying to return it, but the man ran away. Police show up guns pointed at him, demanding that he'd drop the bag. The kid put his hands up, trying to explain that he was trying to return it, and he didn't steal anything. He even walked towards the police — _hands raised_ , mind you — and they got scared, and shot him." Tyron's eyes went wide, " _Eight times_. Straight through the chest. The kid doesn't react — the bullets go straight through him. After they notice he isn't dead, they continue to shoot, claim he's ' _resisting arrest_ ' at this point, but still, he hasn't _done_ anything. Finally, one comes over and starts _beating_ him, which causes the others to come and do the same. Now, he's on the ground, and is _begging_ for them to stop, but they _don't_. The kid is unconscious and they toss him in a police car. He's at the station, they've given him basic first aid, apparently, but they haven't taken him to a hospital yet."

Tyron stared at Tony, shocked and angrily quiet. It was Steve who spoke next. "That's it?"

"Yep," Tony sighed, running a hand down is face.

"Do they even know his name?" Steve asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, uh," Tony cleared his throat. "Witnesses claim that he was a Laurence Dean." Tyron shoots out of his chair, making a beeline for the door.

"Tyron! Wait!" Steve called behind him racing after the adolescent.

"Don't you dare try to stop me, Steve," Tyron growled the words, yanking his hand back. "Don't you fuckin' dare."

"What's going on?" Tony asked, standing too.

"Tyron, there's nothing you can do—"

"Oh, there's a hell of a lot of things I can do. _Watch me_."

"Are you going to help _him_ or _yourself_?" Steve hissed, "You're acting out of _anger_ , Tyron. _Think_ , if you go in there, you'll be shot full of bullets."

"Hate to break it to ya, but bullets don't _kill_ me," Tyron hissed back. "Ya can't stop me, m'going."

"JARVIS, code—" Tony hadn't been able to finish because Tyron yanked his leg out from under him. He had been absorbing a part of the metal coffee table during his entire explanation. His hand was part metal and a thin line has hooked around his pants.

Tony fell, landing awkwardly on the couch, and Tyron hurried to leave. Steve grabbed his shirt, hauling him back. "You can't!"

"Like _hell_ I can't!" Tyron hissed, "This needs to stop, _now_."

"You'll end up a criminal and I don't want to fight you, Tyron."

"I _am_ a criminal, Steve," Tyron glared. "'Ere's nothin' ya can do to change that."

"I can stop you from making a bad decision."

"Saving m'friend is a bad decision?!" Tyron snarled. "Let me _go_!"

" _Tyron_ —" Steve hadn't had the chance to finish. Tony had snuck up behind Steve and shoved a still-warm slice of pepperoni-sausage pizza in his mouth.

At the taste of it, Tyron gagged, falling to his knees, he choked, but it had been so far down that he could only swallow it. Tyron dry heaved, some of it coming back up, but most had already began making it's way down. Tyron could already feel himself getting lightheaded and feeling sick. He heaved again, tears pricking his eyes.

Above him, Steve was yelling at Tony, "You _know_ he can't eat that!" Steve snapped. "You're going to _kill him_!"

"What was I _supposed_ to do!?" Tony retorted, sparing glances towards the suffering boy, "He was planning on slaughtering an entire police station!" Steve said something else, but it had became fuzzy, and unrecognizable by Tyron's ears.

Tyron was panting, blood rushing to his face as he tried to calm his breathing. He began to recall all those nights, starving in an abandoned warehouse because he couldn't eat normal food. He felt like he was _dying_.

Tyron began to shake, but still managed to keep breathing, which had been the main problem with him back then. It's okay, he coached himself, just breathe. _Breathe_. It will pass, it will pass, the worse has yet to come, anyway. He just needed to _breathe_. If he didn't breathe, he'd forget to breathe, he'd forget to think, he'd act irrationally, and lash out. He couldn't have that, he couldn't kill anyone. Baron would be upset if he lashed out, he'd punish him.

Tyron shivered, recalling his punishments with the crime lord. Being whipped, shot, broken fingers, ribs, arms.

 _Raped_.

At the thought, Tyron heaved, something finally coming up, landing on the floor. A mess of grey and a few spots of red from the pizza came out. Tyron was shaking, he couldn't do this, he couldn't kill them. Baron would make him kill the kids again, and–and—

"Tyron, listen to..." Someone was trying to get his attention, crouched beside him, rubbing his back. Tyron flinched, the bandages! He'd feel th–the bandages! Tyron crawled away weakly, stopping himself from vomiting again. _Bathroom_ , a voice said, but he couldn't tell whether it was his own, or someone else's. Either way, he was hauled up and rushed to the nearest toilet.

Tyron sat beside the porcelain toilet and vomited, the clear water mixing with his unnatural grey, sluggish vomit. Tony and Steve argued in the hall as he held unto the toilet as if his life depended on it. He could feel Baron behind him, trying to drag him away, down the hall to his next renter. Tyron cried out, trying to hit him, demanding that he'd let him go, begging he would, but the sinister grin hadn't left the man's face.

Tears ran down his face, as he thrashed, trying desperately to get away, but failing. He was going to die, he was a bad pet, a bad—

"Tyron?" The voice was soft, but he jumped, crawling away desperately.

"No!" He cried, "No, _please_ , I—"

"Tyron, it's okay, it's okay," the voice insisted. "It's me, _Steve._ It's going to be okay."

A hand barely brushed against his own and he screamed, "No, please!" He begged, "Don't bring m'back, please, I–I—"

"Tyron—"

"I'll be good! I–I swear, don't let 'em touch me, please! I–I'll kill 'er! Please, don't—" he couldn't _breathe_. He couldn't _breathe_ , he couldn't—

"Tyron, I'm not going to hurt you, _please_ ," He begged, but Tyron wasn't buying it. It was Baron, having one of his goons mess with his head. He was going to make him happy just to take it away, he was waiting to kill him.

Tyron moved to the toilet, heaving again. Some of it dribbling down his chin. "... Tyron, listen, I know you're scared, but we need to know how to fix this. What do you need? _Metal_? Do you need—"

"Kill me! Please, _kill me_!" Tyron screamed, he didn't want to be touched again. He'd rather die than be touched again. "Just kill me! I–I don't—I ca–can't—"

"Tyron, please—"

"Don't–Don't—"

"Tyron, you need to calm down."

"Dad, please m'sorry, don't—" he could see his father standing in front of him, a knife gleaming in his large hand. Tyron was cornered in the small living room, staring at his father with wide, terrified eyes. "Please, I—"

"I don't have anything that'll sedate him, he'll just _absorb_ the needle!" Tony was yelling.

Tyron heaved again, this throat burning. "Tyron, eat this," the man beside him coaxed. Tyron gagged, trying to move away, but the man held his shoulders forcing the strip of metal into his mouth. Slowly, Tyron chewed, digesting it. He tried to squirm away, but Steve was already forcing another one down his throat. Before he could do a third, Tyron moved to the toilet to vomit again.

As Steve force-fed him metal, his mind began to slowly clear, the haze lifting slightly.

Tyron leaned against the wall, breathing in pants. Twenty minutes of him catching his breath had passed before Tyron spoke, "Tony?"

"Yes?" The man spoke from the hallway.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya," Tyron snarled weakly.

"Reasonable," Tony replied.


	13. 13 - Be A Companion

**Chapter Thirteen:**

Tyron woke up screaming. He curled up on the mattress, his blankets protecting protecting him like a shield. He could feel Baron right beside him, preparing his punishment. He was loading a machine gun that he had stored away and would only use for gang fights, if necessary.

"Please," Tyron begged, "M'sorry! M'sorry, please!" Baron simply chuckled, as if amused by his cries of terror. He pointed the weapon, and fired.

Tyron's screams seemed to rock the entire tower. The pain of hundreds of thousands of bullets colliding into his body was overwhelming. Tyron's body absorbed each and every one, but the shock of it, the collision against his skin, it was mind-shattering.

After the man had finished, Tyron was sobbing freely, his entire body shaking. He had pulled so hard against the ropes that rope burns were left around his wrists. Baron smiled, his dirty teeth as yellow as the sun, as he prepared the next round,

The door opened slowly, and Tyron's screams died a little, falling to whimpering and heavy breathing. "Hey, Tyron," it was Natasha. "Are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?" At the reminder of the horrible memory, Tyron inhaled sharply.

Natasha came to his bed, sitting beside him, "It's gonna be okay," she whispered softly. Tyron sniffed, leaning against the woman and closing his eyes.

For some reason, Natasha reminded him of his mother, before he came out to them. The memory of Anita Brown brought tears to Tyron's eyes. His mother was beautiful and smart. She worked in the city, which always seem far from their little town in New Jersey, but Tyron didn't mind. He would always brag to his friends of how awesome his mother was to be able to have a job like that.

Then, he came out to his parents... And she had practically disowned him. Then, there was the alien attack on New York City, and... She died.

Tyron inhaled, remembering when he heard the news. He stayed in his room for a week. His dad took it harder. He turned to drinking, and he became angrier than usual. He would attack Tyron, hit him until blood had welled up in his mouth. Toss him around, tell him that he was the most useless, ungrateful child that anyone could ever have.

Tyron began to stay locked up in his room more and more, in order to stay away from his father. He had used the window several times in order to just go to school. But school wasn't any better. He was the girl pretending to be a boy, he was a joke to everyone.

"Tyron," Natasha spoke, and Tyron looked up instantly. He had gotten so lost in thought that he almost forgot Natasha was there.

"Sorry, m'sorry," he said immediately,

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize. Do you wanna talk about it, your dream?"

"I..." Tyron sighed, remembering the dangerously entertained look in Baron's eyes as he shot him. To him, watching Tyron scream in pure agony was as good as watching a Sunday football game. "No," Tyron finally said, "M'good. I jus'... Need a break..."

Natasha gave him a sad look, as if sorry for him. "Okay. Well, I'll always be in my room, or not to far away. And, the others are here, too, if you ever wanna talk." Tyron nodded dully, and Natasha stood to leave.

Tyron watched her go, then fell onto his bed and sighed, "JARVIS," he spoke aloud.

" _Yes, Mister Tyron_ ," JARVIS replied.

"Do... Do ya think m'useless?" Tyron asked hesitantly.

" _No, I do not_ ," JARVIS replied. " _Why do you ask?"_

"I dunno," Tyron muttered, turning back to his pillow. "Jus' a random thought..."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

After a few days of terrible fever dreams and vomiting mostly anything he ate, Tyron was feeling better. He hadn't been to school during this time at all. He didn't want to accidentally vomit gray slush and have all of the students, and the teachers be confused.

Tyron laughed a little at the strange thought. He imagined them being very confused, and that stupid ass jock, Flash Thompston, he would slip and fall on it. Then, he'd scream, and Tyron would relish in it.

Tyron moved to get out of bed, but then, he winced, a sharp pain piercing his abdomen, like a knife going into his side. Tyron hissed in pain, laying back down. " _Is everything alright, Mister Tyron_?" JARVIS asked, having heard his cry of pain.

"Shit, I... Yeah, m'good," Tyron groaned. He needed to go to Natasha's room, she'd have a tampon, or a pad.

God, Tyron hissed, as he gingerly stood, he hadn't had his period in months. He'd have to stay home for another few days, or at least he could make it bearable.

He gritted his teeth, looking at his mattress. Blood stained the sheets. It was so bad that he swore aloud, "JARVIS, how do you get blood out of sheets?!" He demanded, almost desperate at this point.

" _Take them off and bring them down the laundry_   _chute_ ," JARVIS replied easily. Tyron obeyed his orders, then he changed out of his clothes as well, tossing those down too.

"Is... Is Natasha in her room?" Tyron asked, making his way to the door. His floor was still empty, the only thing he used was his bedroom. Everything else had yet to be filled.

Tyron turned to the emergency staircase. Natasha lived right above him, so he'd be able to get to her in emergencies and vice versa.

" _No, she is currently making breakfast. Do you want to talk to her_?"

"No," Tyron denied firmly. "I need to get to her room. Do you know where she keeps her pads and shit?" Tyron asked as he stood by the door, waiting, and watching.

He slowly opened it, happy it didn't creak on its hinges.

" _No_ ," JARVIS spoke, but it was quiet. Tyron bit his lip, hoping Natasha didn't hear.

"No  _what_?" He heard her say and he gritted his teeth.

" _I apologize, I experienced a minor glitch. Master Stark is tending to it now._ " Tyron said a silent thank you for JARVIS' lie, hurrying to Natasha's bedroom, not making a sound.

Natasha's room was very neat. The bed straight, clothes hung neatly in the closet. Tyron almost felt bad as he rummaged through her meticulously arranged dresser as he searched frantically for something that even looked remotely like what he needed. When he couldn't find it, he moved to the nightstand beside her bed, then her bed, and finally the closet. However, he came out dry.

Tyron was beginning to get frustrated and angry, at himself, and even a little at Natasha, although she hadn't done a single thing wrong. He hated this side of him. It was so inconvient and stupid. As if he had to be reminded on a daily basis who and what he was.

"Goddamn it," Tyron muttered angrily.

"Didn't Cap talk to you about swearing?" Natasha's voice sounded from the door and Tyron almost screeched in surprise. He turned, clutching his chest, as if it'd help his pounding heart. "Why are you in my room, Tyron? Better yet, why were you looking through my drawers."

Tyron stared at the woman, unable to answer. He felt shame and embarrassment well inside him, and he looked down. He could feel Natasha's confused stares. "Do..." He choked on the words, but managed to swallow his pride. "Do ya have a pad...?"

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"I don't understand," Natasha said, staring at Tyron's dejected expression. "Why didn't you tell us?" Tyron hadn't spoken a word. He simply glared at the counter, holding back furious tears. He couldn't help but wonder what they would do to him now. Maybe they'd make him someone's whore in order to earn his place in such an expensive place. Or, send him back to Baron. They signed up for a teenage boy after all, not some 'gender-confused freak'.

"Tyron, please. I want to help. Should I call Steve or Tony up here? Would that—"

"No!" Tyron screamed, and then flinched at the sound of his own voice. "Pl–Please, don't. I... If they find out, I..." Tyron felt sick at the thought. Them using him for his body just as Baron had done as soon as he had figured out what he was.

"I won't, I wont," Natasha assured, easing his panic. "But, Tyron, why hadn't you said anything? We don't care who, or what you are, you know. We just want you to be who you feel comfortable with." Tyron didn't look at her, closing his eyes, as if it'd help block out the world.

"How about you stay home today, okay?" Natasha suggested with a smile. "You deserve it." Tyron nodded, and Natasha held out her hand, leading him back to his floor.

"M'sorry," Tyron finally managed to whisper.

"Don't be," Natasha replied. "You did what you needed to do." Tyron couldn't even look at her. He couldn't stay here now, he knew it. He wasn't sure if Natasha would keep his secret. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he... He just didn't want to end up in the same situation like he was with Baron. They would yell at him. They  _should_  yell at him. He was a horrible person, they had given him so much and he repayed them by lying to them?! He was a bad, bad, bad, bad pet. A very bad pet. Baron would not be pleased if he found out what he did. Maybe he should just go back, or leave altogether. He couldn't stay here now, it wasn't safe here. They would kill him, they should kill him. They should—

"Calm down," Natasha murmured, pulling him close to her. Tyron had been so lost in thought that he didn't even notice that they were in his room already. Natasha sat him on the bed, "Breathe, okay? You can do this, Tyron. Just breathe for me." Tyron did as she instructed, and felt a bit of his worries fall away. Natasha smiled, "Good."

"M'sorry," Tyron said again.

"Why?"

I–I should'a just told ya. I... I was scared because... Last time he figured out, he..." Tyron closed his eyes, trying to surpass the memory, but it didn't work.

He could hear Baron screaming at him, after he found out that he was biologically a girl. He sent him on a job to kill this little girl who had seen him and some other guy kill a man that Baron didn't particularly like. Apparently, she was the man's daughter. He was supposed to find her, kill her, and make it look like it had been an accident.

When he got there, though, he couldn't do it. She was innocent and scared. He couldn't bring himself to kill her. Tyron had told her to run as far and as fast as she could, then he went back to the 'Yard.

As soon as he got back, Baron knew what he had done. He had told someone to follow him and listen in on what happened, and then they reported back to Baron what Tyron had done.

Baron was furiously. He beat Tyron until every inch of his body was bruised. He had pulled on his shirt so hard that the ace bandages that hid his breasts came undone.

Baron had stared at him, in disgust and anger. Then, he dragged him to his bedroom and threw him on his bed. Tyrom was too terrified and in too much pain to realize what was happening.

Baron ripped his clothes off, then started undressing himself. Tyron was panicking now, he tried to move, to squirm away, but it was helpless. Baron forced him down, and raped him. Tyron cried out, tears lining his cheeks. He began to sob, his entire body trembling.

Baron screamed at him, telling him from that moment on, he was his little pet, his little slut. This was his punishment, and it didn't stop there. He would continue to rent him out to people, because he disobeyed him. Tyron begged him to stop, but he recieved a sharp slap instead. Now that Baron knew his secret, he exploited it to everyone. He msde Tyron's life a living hell, and he hated himself because of it.

"Tyron?" Natasha said, snapping him out of the vivid memory, "Are you okay?"

Tyron was silent for a moment, then he turned to lay on his bed. "Can I... Jus' go to sleep...?" Tyron asked, his voice small. "Please...?"

"Yes, of course," Natasha said. He felt her stand, the weight on the mattress shifting. "Tyron. You know that this is a safe place, right? We would never do anything to hurt you here, okay? We won't treat you like Baron did. We'd  _never_  do that to you. We want you to feel safe and loved. I won't tell anyone about your secret, but I think you should tell them. They won't think of you any different, they want you to feel like this is a safe place, too. So, don't feel bad, because those boys really care about you. They want you to be happy too." Natasha gave him a warm smile before she turned and left the room.


	14. 14 - Be A Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i swear my updates are more consistent on Wattpad, if you want more consisten updates go there. my tag is @/happyritas

**Chapter Fourteen:**

Tyron was surprised when Peter and Ned were happy to see him when he returned to school. After feeding them the very easy lie that he caught the flu, they resumed their normal friendship. The three of them quickly became inseparable. They were together whenever possible, and stayed together after school as well. Tyron couldn't remember the last time he had friends like he did with Peter and Ned.

Tyron went by the court in Queens whenever he could. Lars wasn't there anymore, but he had heard from a few other students that he was returned to his family soon after. He suffered a few broken bones, and a minor concussion, but was otherwise fine. Tyron was glad, and even came by his house too, to visit him, and bring him a basketball he got all the Avengers to sign. Lars loved it, so Tyron was happy.

Tyron had also been avoiding both Tony and Natasha, for different reasons. After what happened with Tony, he would get too many reminders of his time --- and torture --- with Baron. It made him feel sick, so he decided that avoiding the man completely would be much easier than having to willingly talk to him.

Natasha was a completely different story. He had unintentionally came out to her, and although she had a very positive response, he still felt all too wary of her. She could tell anyone and he wouldn't know. Then again, he reasoned, she hadn't told them exactly about his time with Baron. At least, to his knowledge.

Tyron was pretty sure she wouldn't, but he didn't know  _what_  to expect. And he certainly didn't expect Steve to approach him saying that they were leaving.

"Why?" Tyron asked. Steve had sat him down on the couch to break the news to him. "Do ya want me to go...?"

"No, no, it's not like that," Steve assured. "The others and I, we have to go over to Slovakia for a day or so. It won't be long. I promise."

"What do ya want me to do?" Tyron asked, confused. "Can I jus' come wit' ya?"

"No," Steve shook his head firmly. "You can't. It's going to be really dangerous --- I'm sorry. Tony told me to suggest sleeping over a friends' house, just for a few days, until we come back. That is, if you aren't comfortable staying here yourself. If not, then you can stay here. Tony has a friend that'll check up on you if you do."

"Are ya sure I can't come wit' ya? I mean, there aren't a lot of ways I can get hurt, ya know?"

"We're not going to risk it," Steve said immediately. "I'm sorry, Tyron. I don't wanna leave you like this either, but I promise we'll come back." Tyron frowned, but gave a small nod, "Thanks." Steve smiled, raising a hand and messing up his short cut hair. "I'll see you later."

"Bye," Tyron said absentmindedly. He was too busy thinking about how he was going to sneak on their ship to go with them.

\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -

Tyron felt slightly cramped, and a tad bit terrified. It had been hours, and he has kept the same, uncomfortable position.

He only had half a day to plan before they left. He made a metal clone of himself that he kept in his bedroom, and disassembled the cameras in his room, and along with the ones in his entire floor. Then, he had to get to their weird jet before the others had boarded it, and hide in the wall of the jet. In order to do this, he had to absorb the wall of the --- conveniently metal --- jet, and form the wall over hum. So, it'd look like there was nobody there, and he'd be fine. The only part that was exposed was his eyes, which he kept closed.

He had been standing for nearly six hours, and he was overwhelmingly tired. However, he didn't show his position. He could hear the others. They were all talking about some staff, that was at a HYDRA base. Tyron remembered hearing about HYDRA in school, it had something to do with World War Two, which was strange because that had been forever ago. He didn't think that the organization was still around --- and strong enough for the Avengers to look into it.

Another strange thing was the fact that he heard a very new voice as well. It was loud and very strong. By using the process of elimination, he realized that this voice probably belong to  _the_  Thor Odin. He had read about him somewhere, but all he remembered was that he had a lightning hammer called  _Millionaire_  or something. He was surprised that he had been here, if whatever they were doing involved him coming from another universe, then it certainly had to be serious.

Soon, the seven hour mark had passed and Tyron was ready to drop. He was exhausted, but refused to allow his body to show it. If he even made the slightest of movements they would notice, and he would be in a hell of a lot of trouble.

" _Achoo_ ," Clint, who had been sitting near him, sneezed.

"Bless ya," Tyron murmured, and froze once he realized what he had done. In an instant, Clint had his bow and arrow pointed at the boy.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked, slightly confused why Clint was ready to shoot a wall.

"We've smuggled a stowaway," Clint replied. Tyron sighed, and stepped out of the wall. He could feel all the eyes turning on him in slight shock. "I knew I heard something."

"Tyron!? I told you to stay home!" Steve snapped, shocked. "What are you doing here!?"

"How'd ya find me?" Tyron asked, turning to Clint and not addressing the question.

"You think too loudly," Clint replied sarcastically. "You shouldn't be here, kid."

"I didn't wanna wait at the Tower," Tyron replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's too dangerous," Clint said, his voice stern.

"I'll be fine," Tyron insisted. "'Sides, it's too late to take m'back anyhow." Tyron felt the others in the room sigh softly, all trying to figure out what to do with him.

"I do not understand," Thor spoke, his voice deep enough to remind him of a viking. "Who is this child?"

"Tyron. We've... Taken him in, for all intents and purposes," Natasha spoke. "He is supposed to be at the Tower, but he  _somehow_  managed to tag along."

"Look, we land in a little over fifteen minutes," Tony spoke, "We need to start suiting up before we decide what to do with him."

The others agreed, and began grabbing their various weapons. Steve was the first to finish and sat Tyron down to talk. "You're going to stay here. I don't want to see you out there, got it?"

"What? Hell no, I came to  _help_ , not hide!" Tyron argued.

"Tyron, you can't help right now, this isn't one of your little gang fights," Steve explained. "We're keeping you here, and that's final. I don't want to see you out there, period."

"M'not hidin', Steve. I came to help ya guys---"

"We do not need your help, Tyron! The last thing we need is a kid getting hurt," Steve explained. "I want you to stay here, for all our sakes."

"M'not." Steve sighed, rubbing his temples.

"You cannot come. There's nothing you can do to help, Tyron. This is going to be an in-and-out mission. And, it's top secret; you're a  _civilian_. You are not even allowed to see this. Geez, Tyron, you're going to get us all in trouble. We can get you out of here quickly without any of the superiors noticing."

" _M'not_ _runnin_ '," His voice was firm and serious. Before Steve could say another word, something hit him in the head. For a moment, he saw stars, before he fell unconscious.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron woke up later, his hands and legs were tied to the chair behind him with rope. He could hear loud noises outside and groaned, his head pounding. For a moment, he was quiet, allowing his thoughts to clear, so he could think properly. He definitely heard gunshots, so they must have arrived. Tyron pulled, trying to find some metal to use in order to escape, but everything near him was covered in a tarp, leaving him with just plastic.

Tyron swore, thinking of a way to escape. He couldn't get out of the ropes without something sharp. He could dislocate his wrist, but that would be a lot of work. Tyron sighed, knowing his only other option. He hadn't done it much because it was uncomfortable to keep up, and a bit disturbing, but he  _wanted_  to help.

Along time ago, Tyron discovered that he could take the iron out of his own blood --- and occasionally someone else's --- and use it as a weapon. But only if their iron content was high. Tyron didn't use it often because it made him feel sick, but he was desperate, and needed to leave.

Tyron focused, drawing the iron out of his own body. He gritted his teeth as the feeling of fire arose from every vein in his body, but slowly, he was able to form a small bloody knife. Tyron hurried, quickly slicing through the ropes and standing.

Tyron stumbled, holding his head, and muttered a swear under his breath. " _Mister Tyron, I advise you go back in your seat_ ," JARVIS sounded over the intercom.

Tyron narrowed his eyes,searching through the cabinets and finally found an earpiece. He found a way to turn it on. It was connected to the channel the others were using. After looking for a bit, he found a small mute switch, and pressed it. " _Mister Tyron, I will have to contact Master Stark if you try to leave_."

"Then do it," Tyron replied, going to the closed platform used to leave. "I came here to  _help_." Tyron found a weak point in the ship, and used began forming his own exit.

" _Tyron, I know you're on this channel_ ," Natasha growled just as he managed to make a hole wide enough for him to slip out. He sealed it just as easily when he got out. Tyron pressed unmute on his earpiece. " _Listen to me, I don't know what you're planning, but---"_

"I jus' came to help, Natasha," Tyron explained. "I appreciate what y'all have been doin' for me, I really do, but... Sometimes, I jus' wanna help you."

" _I understand, but_ \---" she grunted, and he heard a shout of pain from the other end. " _You can't be here._ " Tyron noticed movement near the side, and turned. A man was nearing their jet, a small explosive in his hand.

Tyron wasted no time dropping down on the man. His hands found the man's gun and he absorbed it instantly, using the metal to obscure his face.

The man shouted angrily in a language he didn't understand, but Tyron wasn't listening. He snatched the bomb from the man, tossing it farther into the woods, far away from the ship. With a sharp punch, the man was knocked unconscious.

" _What's going on?"_  Steve demanded, " _What just happened, Tyron?"_

"Someone tried to blow up ya jet," Tyron replied. "Jus' to be clear, I  _can't_  kill, can I?"

" _No_!" Four voices snapped back. Tyron frowned at the response.

" _If you want to help, then fine_ ," Steve finally sighed. " _Guard the jet, got it_?"

Tyron couldn't help the grin spreading on his face. "Ay, ay, Capt'n," Tyron smirked.

" _Quiet_ ," Steve replied, semi-annoyed, " _Guard the jet. We'll deal with you when we get back_."

Ten minutes had passed with little to no commotion. Tyron was beginning to get bored. He also noticed that more soldiers were coming. A few strayed, trying to take out the jet, but they were easily disposed of, their weapons confiscated. Tyron simply listened to the comms silently, as the others fought.

" _Shit_!" Tony exclaimed, probably getting attacked unknowingly.

" _Language! JARVIS, what's the view from upstairs?"_  Steve asked the AI.

" _The central building is protected by some kind of energy shield_ ," JARVIS supplied. " _Strucker's_ _technology is well beyond any other Hydra base we've taken_."

 _"Loki's scepter must be here_ ," Thor spoke calmly. Tyron noticed that the clouds overheard were getting suspiciously thick. " _Strucker_ _couldn't mount this defense without it. At long last_."

" _At long last is lasting a little long, boys_ ," Natasha grumbled, and Tyron managed to chuckle. He noticed more movement on the side, and turned. Another soldier welding a gun was coming his direction. Sighing, Tyron slid off the top of the ship.

 _"Yeah. I think we lost the element of surprise,"_  Clint commented. Tyron landed on top of the man, who turned his gun to fire, only to quickly have it absorbed by Tyron. Using the metal he absorbed, Tyron made a blunt hammer-like weapon and struck the man in the head.

A gun cocked away from him, and instantly bullets fired. Tyron winced as the bullets made contact, leaving holes in the parts of his clothes that was not protected by armour. Annoyed, Tyron moved, easily coming close to the man. He slammed his face in a tree, almost feeling the urge to channel the metal he absorbed to his hand and crush his skull. But, he couldn't, because they said ' _no killing_ '.

The man collapsed as Tyron let go, and Tyron sighed. This was getting boring and repetitive. " _Wait a second. No one else is going to deal with the fact that Cap just said_  'language'?" Tony asked, a bit incredulous.

 _"I know_ ," Steve sighed. " _It just slipped_."

" _Sir, the city is taking fire_ ," JARVIS informed.

" _Well, we know_ _Strucker's_ _not going to worry about civilian casualties_ ," Tony scoffed. " _Send in the Iron Legion_."

Tyron frowned, he had heard of the Iron Legion. People didn't seem to like it very much. He vaguely wondered how they would react to that.

" _Clint_!" Natasha shouted, drawing Tyron out of his thoughts. " _Clint's hit!"_

" _We have an enhanced in the field_ ," Steve announced. " _Tyron, get back in the jet_."

"M'not arguing this again, Steve," Tyron drawled.

" _Somebody want to deal with that bunker_?" Natasha asked, annoyance on her tone.

Tyron saw something blur past and froze. Suddenly, he was pushed off the quinjet. He jumped, his hand clutching the side as he slowed down enough to jump off.

The blur came again, and Tyron was on the ground, winded by a strong punch to the chest. "What's wrong?" A heavily accented voice asked beside him. "You looked like you wanted to play." Tyron turned to see a tall young man, maybe in his early twenties. He wore a blue and white jumpsuit, had silver hair and striking blue eyes. Tyron had to admit, he was cute.

" _Tyron, who is that_?" Natasha asked, calmly. He didn't answer, but stood instead, grinning.

"Yeah, I did," He smirked, "M'glad ya could come." Tyron watched as the man disappeared again, and braced hisself for an attack.

He came back behind him, aiming to kick his chest. When he hit him, Tyron's metal encased his leg with metal. When he tried to run again, he tripped, falling on his face. Tyron used his metal to tie his arm to a tree beside him. "Well done," The man said, a bit surprised.

" _Tyron, what's going on_?!" Steve demanded.

"I caught him," Tyron replied, "Uh..." He turned back to the man. "What's ya name?"

"Quicksilver, yours?"

"Still workin' on it," Tyron shrugged. He heard a loud grunt and turned. A green blur was coming quickly, carrying something in his arms.

"Well, that's my cue," Quicksilver said. He twisted his body around and forced his hand out from the metal. He jumped up, shoving Tyron into the jet as he ran away.

Tyron grunted, rubbing the back of his head, but turned to see what he had ran from.

The Hulk dropped from the trees with enough force that Tyron has to take a step back. In his hands, was Clint. His face was twisted in pain, and he held his side tenderly. Tyron tried to go to him, but the Hulk growled, his dark eyes narrowed threateningly.

"'Ey, chill, s'jus' me," Tyron said, absorbing the metal he had obscuring his face so the Hulk could recognise him.

"Tyron?" Clint spoke, looking up. "Get the jet open."

"I, uh, don't 'xactly have keys..." Tyron replied, scratching the back of his head. Clint turned, lifting his arm where his wristwatch was, and muttered something into it. The jet began to open slowly, and the Hulk turned to allow it to fall.

"Can I take him from ya?" Tyron asked the Hulk carefully. "I'll help him, promise." The Hulk looked a bit reluctantly, but gave Tyron Clint anyway.

Tyron held the man easily as he carried him into the jet. "You know, you're stronger than you look," Clint commented with a chuckle.

"Gotta be after all the shit I did with Baron," Tyron replied easily as he set him down on one of the chairs. "Where's the medical stuff?"

"Over there," Clint pointed to a cabinet with his good side. Tyron nodded, moving to the cabinet and pulling out a red-and-white first aid kit.

"Were ya shot?" Clint nodded, "Is the bullet out?" Clint shook his head. "Okay," Tyron picked up package of bandages, rubbing alcohol, and gloves.

Tyron put the gloves on. "Lift ya shirt," he ordered, and Clint did. Tyron placed a hand on the gunshot wound and slowly extracted the bullet. Clint grunted but was otherwise silent. Soon, the bullet was out and Tyron ate it.

Clint made a face, "Really?"

"What were ya gonna do with it?" Tyron replied heatedly. "Ya blood tastes good, by the way. Very high in iron." Clint chuckled, rolling his eyes. Tyron cleaned and bandaged the wound, then moved to go but the supplies away.

"You'd make a great nurse, you know," Clint commented easily.

"Oh really?" Tyron mused, "How's that?"

"You're really patient, don't get squeamish at blood. You're probably good with kids, I mean, you're pretty much cut out for it."

Tyron chuckled, "As much as that sounds great, I don't think Nursing is what I wanna do."

"What? Is it not manly enough?" Clint joked and Tyron laughed.

"Ironically, no," Tyron chuckled. "If anything, I'd probably want to be---" a gun cocked and Tyron turned, picking up a gun beside him. As soon as they stepped in the light, Tyron shot them twice, one in the head, another in the chest.

They gagged, but fell down, their eyes glazed over. "... An assassin," Tyron finished. "I'd wanna to be an assassin."


	15. 15 - Be A Statistic

**Chapter Fifteen:**

"What were you thinking!?" Steve ranted, angrier than ever. "You could've been killed!"

"I wasn't," Tyron rolles his eyes. "Don't worry."

"What are all these holes in your shirt?" Tony asked, taking his dirty shirt in his hand to inspect it. Tyron batted his hand away, annoyed.

"I got shot a few times, but—"

"You got  _what_?!" Steve snapped, eyes wide with surprise.

"S'fine, don't worry about—"

"Show me."

"No," Tyron said immediately. The bullets had hit his chest, and although he had absorbed it, it still pierced through to his bandages. If he showed Steve and the others, he'd might as well give them a flashing sign that screamed, 'I'm a girl!'

"If you were shot, then—"

"Nothing'll happen. Bullets don't hurt me, 'member?" Tyron sighed, "I dunno why y'all are makin' such a fuss outta it. I've had worse jobs." Tyron winced, he hadn't meant for that last part to come out.

"Like what?" Steve challenged.

"Doesn't matter. Y'all got ya weird-ass scepter, so we can go back home, right?" Tyron asked, changing the subject.

"Don't get so hard on him," Clint spoke up, and several heads turned his way. "He was good. I think the experience would be good for him."

"What are you talking about, Clint?" Natasha asked, confused.

"I mean, he patched me up really well. I think, if he wants to be out there, let him. But, maybe as a field medic instead of a fighter."

"He shouldn't be out there, period."

"Yeah, and last I heard, your story wasn't all black and white with the rules before you became the Super Solider," Clint replied, and the room went silent.

"That was different," Steve defended, crossing his arms. "There was a war going on."

"There's always wars going on," Clint rolled his eyes. "How about, for once, let the kid be a person who helps people instead of hurting them. I mean, he's practically indestructible. I could empty a clip in his chest and he would walk away without a scratch."

"It's dangerous—"

"For normal people like me, like Nat, but mutants like Tyron are special. We can use him, and we should. I mean, come on, the kid's practically dying to help anyway. He'd be better on our side than theirs."

Clint's words gave everyone pause, slowly letting it sink in. "We'll think about it," Steve finally said. "In the meantime, you're in grounded."

Tyron laughed at the word, having not heard it said in years. "Grounded, really?"

Steve's eyes narrowed. "No hanging out with friends, no games, nothing."

"Fair enough."

"And, you'll be getting up and five A.M. every morning for the next three weeks, going on runs with me. After that, an hour in the gym."

Tyron paled, his eyes going wide. "Ya can't be serious." Steve gave him the look, one he had recognized on his mother several times. The 'I dare you to try me' look. "That's insane! Someone tell 'im that's insane!"

"You dig yourself into this," Nat shrugged, and even Clint, the man who just saved his ass a minute ago, nodded agreeingly. Tyron let out a groan, what had he gotten himself into?

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Later, Tyron was leaning back in one of the seats, resting. They had a couple of hours left, and the jet had gone mostly quiet. He had a complicated week and just wanted some peaceful, quiet sleep.

However, someone moved, sitting beside him. Tyron looked and felt his heart jump when Thor sat down, giving him a grin. "Thor," he said, as if the man didn't know his own name.

Thor chuckled, it was a deep sound that rumbled in the back of his throat. "That is I," he replied. "I do not believe we have had the chance to meet probably. You are called Tyron, yes?"

"Yeah, I... Uhm, that's my name." Tyron suddenly got the urge to throw hisself off a bridge. ' _That's my name_ '?! That was the best he could come up with when a literal  _god_  was sitting beside him.

"So," he said, rubbing the back of his head, "Ya hammer s'pretty cool..."

Thor smiled, "Ah, yes,  _Mjlnor_  is quite the great tool. It was given to me by my father."

"Your father?" Tyron asked. His knowledge of... Viking mythology or whatever they called was lacking significantly.

"Yes, my father, Odin, king of all realms. I am the prince, set to take my father's place after his passing."

"Oh, that's fu—I mean, uh," he coughed. "Messed up."

"' _Messed up_ '?" He repeated. "This means,  _not good_ , yes?" Tyron nodded. "Why do you say that?"

"I mean," Tyron shrugged. "He's ya  _pops_. Ya just... Waitin' around for him to  _kill over_? I mean, not like that," Tyron assured, even though Thor looked highly confused. "I mean, what m'tryin' to say is, ya just gonna wait 'til he's...  _Dead_ , then take his stuff. Not that I want him to die, but, geez, this is going not at all how I want."

"Are you trying to say that I am simply biding time until my father passes in order to rule the throne?"

"I–I guess," he shrugged awkwardly. "Sorry, it ain't none of m'business."

"You are quite alright, young one," Tyron raised an eyebrow. "Although I have never looked at it from that stand point, I believe you are very much right."

Shocked, Tyron said, "Ya think so?"

"I believe there is room for everyone's opinion, whether right or wrong."

Tyron nodded, agreeing, and Thor straightened. "I hear you are quite the interesting enhanced, yes?"

"Nah. Not an enhanced, a mutant. An nhanced is a normal human who gets powers with experimentation or any other unnatural causes. A mutant is born with the X-gene and mutants them. People love the enhanced, but it's not the same with, uh, people like me."

"People do not like you?" Thor asked, confused. "How so?"

"I... Uh, it's too much to explain. People get impressed by people who were like 'em but changed due to circumstance. Usually, you're the only one of your kind. But, if ua like me, someone born different, then... Well, ya a monster."

"I have seen true monsters, young Tyron. You are surely not one," Thor comforted.

"Thanks," Tyron smirked, "I appreciate it."

"All is well," Thor smiled.

Tyron looked down. "If ya don't mind m'askin', then... What kinda metal is ya hammer, uhm, mill... Nare? Sorry, m'not good at pronouncin' stuff. Anyways, what's it made of?"

Thor lifted the hammer to his lap, "My hammer was forged from the deeps caverns of Asgard by the most noble and strongest welders. It was made of a powerful stone called uru, and was blessed by no one other than my father, Odin, himself." Thor turned the hammer, diplaying a insigina and a mesage written in a language he didn't understand. They both glowed bronze, as if it knew someone were looking at it because it was not glowing before.

" _Cool_ ," Tyron awed. He reached out the touch it. The scent of the metal was powerful, filling his senses. He noticed it early, but hadn't wanted to say anything, but when he finally got the chance to look and see it. Tyron couldn't help but wonder what taking a bit of this... This  _alien metal_.

"I wouldn't touch it, if I were you, Tyron," Tony spoke from the other side of the ship. Tyron was shocked out of his trance, and turned to the inventor.

"Why not?"

"Well, for someone like you who can absorb any metal he touched, if you touch Thor's hammer... I have a feeling he won't get it back," Tony explained. "Hey, Thor, can I talk to you?" Thor nodded, but didn't move yet.

Tyron considered his words, and then sighed, "Damn, ya right..." He muttered. Touching mill-near, or however you say it, was a great thought, but he knew it was better if he didn't.

"Is this true?" Thor asked, surprised.

Tyron nodded disappointedly. "That's my mutation. I, uhm, eat and absorb metal..."

"Fascinating," Thor replied. "You humans never fail to disappoint the imagination."

Tyron nodded, grinning. "That's us, yep. Interestin' as hell."

"It was great meeting you, young Tyron. I hope our paths cross in the future."

"Ya too, Thor. Maybe, I can take ya to the court someday. Ya seem like the good BBall player." Thor gave him a peculiar look, but didn't denounce it.

"I will look forward to it." He smiled. Then, he got up and went to speak with Tony.

Tyron smiled, almost giddy he had the chance to talk to the  _Thor Odinson_! He wanted to brag all about it to the others. Tyron frowned, realizing that he really couldn't tell the others without telling them that he was a mutant.

Tyron let out a sigh, definitely ready to go home and sleep.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"How's delinquent boot camp coming along?" Tony chuckled as Tyron entered the kitchen, sitting on the barstool. His shirt was soaked with sweat and his throat burning for water.

"Steve... Tried to kill me," Tyron gasped.

"Hardly," Steve said, coming in behind him. Tony chuckled, handing him a glass of water. Tyron downed it instantly, and Tony refilled it again. "He's really strong, I'll have to admit, but he's outta practice. The next few weeks should definitely sharpen his skills."

Tony nodded, approvingly. "Well, if you're done torturing the kid, then he needs to get ready for school. You have thirty minutes." As if Tony had just blown a bullhorn in his ear, Tyron jumped up, eyes wide.

" _Shit_!" He screeched, racing for the elevator.

"Language!" Tony and Steve called after him, and Steve glared at the mocking smirk on Tony's face.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"You, my friend, look like  _hell_ ," Peter said as Tyron slipped into his seat for first period.

"He's right," Ned replied. "What'd you do, run a marathon?"

"Somethin' like that," he wheezed.

"Don't make a habit of this, Mister Tyron," their teacher, Mr. Gildwin scolded. He was a overset man with balding, white-blonde hair. He wore the same beige pants every single day, and only changed the colour od his button down shirt. He was old, by the looks of it, and was very particular about his class and the students. He didn't like Tyron, and, honestly, he had no idea why.

"Yessir," Tyron mumbled, taking out his maths textbook.

"Today, I thought it'd be more interesting, since everyone thinks that math time is the equivalent to nap time," his dark eyes, weary of age, narrrowed as it scanned the room, landing on a few people of interests. "So, I've added some real world issues into our teaching."

"Yeah," Miles Forbes cheered from the back corner of the room, where all the jocks and sluts sat. "One bitch fucked plus one cock sucked equals a hell of a good night!" Then him, and his possee of other friends, laughed heartily, slapping hands and punching fists. Tyron rolled his dark eyes, immaturity annoyed him.

"I think you'll find that these problems might be more interesting than cheap sex, Mr. Thompson. And, after all this, you and your friends can look over it in detention tomorrow." The class ooohed at Mr. Gildwin's words, and Flash rolled his blue eyes.

"Moving on," he cleared his throat. And turned to the whiteboard where there were some long blank papers covering a few sections. He pulled the first one down, revealing a graphic. Tyron recognized it as a Punnett Square. "Recent studies have shown that males are more likely to carry the X-Gene than women. So," he turned to the board, and began to write. "Lets say that a man and a woman have a child. The man is a carrier with the X-Gene and the woman is a not. However, the woman has the dominant trait of producing a child with the X-Gene that will emerge in their teen years. The man has the trait of having the child with the X-Gene that will emerge in it's early years. So, which is more likely for the child to have its mutation being shown?"

"Uh, Mr. Gildwin?" A student said, a weird look on her face. She was chewing gum, her bottom lip pierced and bore a black earring. "This is  _math_  class, not  _science_. So, why are we learning this?"

"I am the teacher, you'll learn what I say you learn," he replied tursely. "Anyone else want to answer the question?"

"Won't there be a fifty-fifty chance?" Ned asked, confused.

"Yes. Thank you," Mr. Gildwin said, turning back to the white board. "If there is a fifty-fifty chance, that means that either way, its likely for the child to be born with the X Gene. Now, let's say the child is born a female and will mutate in her teens. She is a very talented swimmer, and also a very good rock climber. Mutalogists have reported that 82 percent of mutants have triggered their mutations based on their surroundings. Let's say, her mutation will be either mutating into a mythological mermaid, due to her swimming, or the ability to climb surfaces easily due to her rock climbing. Raise your hand if you think it is swimming." A few raised their hands, and he nodded. "And the rock-climbing?" Everyone else, including Tyron, raised their hands.

"You're all wrong," He said, and Tyron rose an eyebrow. "Studies have shown that if you possess two skills like that that are similar, you are 25 percent more likely to gain something that'll accomodate both categories." He pulled off another paper. It was a illustration of a pair of lungs, except they were cracked, as if made of stone. "She gained a better use for her lungs, allowing her to breathe underwater for longer periods of time and go hours in air with less than twenty percent of oxygen without the use of a tank."

"Okay. So she's a freak," a male student said, scoffing and leaning back in his chair. "So what?"

"Mr. Jon, do you know the percentage of mutants in the United States right now?" Mr. Gildwin asked, and he shrugged. Mr. Gildwin turned back to the board, lowering the last paper a little. On the board was a statistic.

' **FORTY-TWO PERCENT OF ALL AMERICANS HAVE THE X-GENE OR ARE MUTANTS.** '

"So?" He shrugged. "I don't care. It's not my problem what those freaks do."

"Mr. Jon, do you know the homicidal rate of Mutant-Americans?" He didn't give him the chance to answer because he had already pulled down the paper again.

' **APPROX. 0.0028 PERCENT OF MUTANT AMERICANS HAVE BEEN CONVICTED OF HOMICIDE**.'

"Mr. Jon. Do you know the suicide rate of Mutant-Americans?" Mr. Gildwin continued, not even allowing the boy to open his mouth. He moved the paper again.

' **THE SUICIDE RATE OF MUTANT-AMERICANS, ACCORDING TO A 2016 STUDY, IS 95.78 PERCENT**.' The class began to murmur, a few looking uncomfortable.

"So!?" He asked, his face scrunched in anger. "Why the fuck should I care!?"

"Mr. Jon. Do you know how many Mutant-Americans have died by the hands of a non-mutant?" Mr. Gildwin moved the paper away, folding it on his desk as he moved to sit. The entire class was silent and shocked.

The last statistic was inside a picture of a skull. It said, ' **FOR EVERY ONE NON-HUMAN THAT IS BORN IN THE U.S. EVERY DAY, OVER A HUNDRED MUTANT-AMERICANS ARE KILLED IN THE U.S**.'

Tyron wanted to cry. His eyes darted to the floor. He heard Miles talk to his friends, sounding proud of the horrifying statistic. "Serves those freaks fuckin' right," one of them joked, making the entire group giggle like schoolgirls.

It took  _everything_  Tyron had in him to not get up. It took everything he had learned from Steve and Tony and the others to not walk over there. It took everything in Tyron's will power to not stand up and rip out each and every one of their insides.

His hand gripped his pencil, a foot wrapped around the leg of his desk, slowly absorbing it, on instinct. They laughed again, "You'd fuck a mutant?" One of them asked the other.

"I'm all for exotic animals," They shrugged shamelessly. "Might even cage it up."

" _Kinky_."

"Tyron?" Peter said beside him. He jumped, his chair falling back, his pencil snapping in half. He blinked, the room was staring at him, confused.

"Freak." One muttered, and the rest of the room began to whisper as well.

He turned to Peter and picked up his chair. "M'sorry. Must've... Dozed off."

"No problem," Peter said as Tyron sat back down. "Are you alright?"

"M'good. Just tired, s'all," he shrugged sitting back down, not missing the death glare the jocks in the corner were giving him. "What're we doin'?"

"Writing our own examples of Mr. G's lesson," he shrugged. "Five different ones. They don't have to be real, and neither do the sources, as long as the math is tight." Tyron nodded and pulled out a sheet of paper, beginning his work.


	16. 16 - Be A Partygoer

**Chapter Sixteen:**

Tyron was tired. He laid on his bed, staring at the pages before him. After school, and running with Steve, and everything else that was going on... Well, he was ready to lay down and sleep till next year. However, he still had work to finish, and then there was the party coming up that evening that Tony was preparing at the moment.

Tyron felt socially exhausted. He was tired, moody, and wanted to get high. It's been months since his last smoke and he felt like he deserved it at this point. Unfortunately, his main source of drugs were cut off, leaving him only to a regular smoke.

Tyron groaned, "I don't suppose ya can get m'some weed, can ya JARVIS?" He asked the aritifual intelligence.

" _No, and I do not reccomend you getting high either_ ," JARVIS replied promptly.

"Thought ya'd say that," he murmured, going back to his work, annoyed.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"M'headin' out!" Tyron shouted to whoever could hear him.

"Where are you going?" Tony asked, coming out of one of the side rooms.

"Just for a walk," Tyron shrugged. "Hey, can I have a twenty?"

"What do you need a twenty for?" Tony asked curiously, but pulled out his wallet anyway.

"Just in case," he shrugged, accepting the bill with a smile. "Thanks."

"Mmhmm," Tony rose an eyebrow. "Don't be out all night --- the party starts in a few hours."

"Gimme another sixty an' I can go to a club instead," Tyron smirked, but Tony rolled his eyes.

"Hurry up and leave," he said. "Call if anything happens."

"I know," Tyron replied, heading for the elevator. "See ya." He gave a short wave before stepping inside.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron stood in the corner store quietly, looking in the fridge, slowly absorbing the metal handle. He used it to make a small metal line from his finger, through the tiles in the floor, to the cigarettes behind the counter. So far, nobody suspected him, and soon, the pack of Marlboro cigarettes were his.

He stuffed it in his pocket and walked out the door disinterested. Once he was far enough, he lit the cigarette as he walked, content to finally get the chance to smoke something. Although he hadn't had traditional cigarettes in a while, it was nice to finally get the chance to take a smoke.

Tyron almost couldn't believe all that had happened lately. Last year today, he was doing deals with Baron, and now, he was here.

Tyron stopped at a 99 cents store, going in and picking up a sketchpad and a pen. He missed sketching, something he hadn't done in a while.

Thanking the cashier, he walked across the street, going to sit at a small park, only the size of a block. A few kids were playing around, climbing the trees or kicking a ball.

Tyron sat at the bench, smiling, sketching, and quietly smoking. All was quiet for about twenty minutes until someone sat beside him. Then, they yanked the dying cigarette out of his mouth.

"Hey!" He snapped, turning their way. It was Steve and he did not look happy. "What's the matter wit' ya?" He frowned.

"You are not old enough to smoke," he scolded. "What are you doing, anyway?" 

"Mindin' m'own business," Tyron replied. "Ya tryin' to take notes?"

Steve rolled his eyes, "The party starts soon. You aren't going?"

"Not m'crowd," Tyron shrugged. "Why aren't ya there, Mr. Perfect?"

"I'm not ' _Mr. Perfect_ '," Steve frowned and Tyron laughed at the lie.

"Please, ya a better definition of stereotypical American, than a Big Mac," Tyron laughed. "'Sides, you didn't answer m'question. What're ya doin' here?"

"Tony said you went out. I wanted to check on you. Good thing I did too," he said, muttering the last part, tossing the butt of his cigarette in a nearby trash can. "I wanted to talk."

"Then speak," Tyron shrugged.

Steve sighed, "How would you like to join the Avengers?" Tyron stared at the man, blank-faced. Steve looked back, although seemed a bit awkward.

Finally, Tyron laughed. At first, it had been a scoff, no more than a chuckle, but it evolved into full-blown belly laughter. He stopped, however, when he realized Steve hadn't joined him.

"Holy shit, ya serious," Tyron spoke, his laughter dying.

"When you turn eighteen, you'll be able to join, on probation," Steve continued to explain. "You'd shadow us in low-level missions. At twenty-one, you'll be able to become a fully fledged Avenger."

"Weren't ya just against m'becomin' a soldier, like, two days ago?" Tyron asked, surprised. "What changed ya mind?"

"Clint did," Steve admitted. "He said we needed a field medic, and you fit the description. You're impenetrable to bullets, or so you claim, metal doesn't work on you, and you can defend yourself. I don't want you in the action until you're of age, but a person to take care of us --- or at least few of us that needs taking cares of --- you'd be able to do that."

"M'honoured," Tyron said seriously. "I'll accept, under one condition."

"What is it?"

"Ya Avengers, ya start helpin' out  _here_. Wit' people like me ---  _mutants_. Make sure we're protected, jus' like ya protect the country. I don't wanna see anyone else come out as bad as I did."

"You didn't come out bad," Steve frowned.

"I can kill a man with m'bare hands," Tyron deadpanned. "M'not normal. Not even by mutant standards. So, I want ya to stop it. Help us, don't... Don't let us jus' get shot an' killed an' be forgotten..."

"You won't be," Steve assured. "Because you aren't going to die."

"Course, Steve," Tyron murmured quietly. "Course."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron sighed closing his eyes as the music steadily drummed around him. He sat at a tall table, nodding to those who passed by. He was bored, and didn't really enjoy dinner parties like this. Everyone was trying to please the other, or get what they wanted. Everyone was smiles and cheap laughter. It annoyed him to no end.

He sighed, wishing he was at one of the clubs in Brooklyn. Those were the  _shit_ , especially on nights like these. These people didn't know how to  _party_  correctly.

Tyron sighed, watching as a pretty woman passed by. She smirked at him, but he only nodded, not paying any mind. "I'd think that someone like you would be all up in a party like this," Tony said behind him, and Tyron turned slowly.

"This ain't no party," Tyron scoffed. "S'too quiet. Real parties are loud an' fun. Real parties are so good, the cops gotta come to stop it. Those are good. This... This is nothin'."

Tony laughed, picking up a drink he brought over here. "You seem really calm tonight too," Tony smiled. "Haven't even seen you make eyes with one girl tonight."

"They ain't m'type," Tyron shrugged, and Tony rose an eyebrow.

"I didn't know---"

"I didn't say," Tyron replied. He inhaled, "Where are the others?"

"They're about to go upstairs. Party's ending soon. Wanna come with?"

"To the after party?" Tyron laughed. "Sure."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron sat on the long couch, smirking as the other Avengers mingled around him. Clint had been eyeing Thor's hammer for a while, and finally he spoke up. "But, it's a trick!" Clint said, motioning to the hammer, clearly a bit tipsy.

"Oh, no. It's much more than that," Thor spoke, grinning as he took a sip of his drink.

"Uh, ' _Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power_ '!" Clint scoffed, "Whatever man! It's a trick."

"Well, please, be my guest," Thor said, a smile on his lips.

"Come on," Tony rolled his eyes.

"Really?" Clint asked skeptically.

"Yeah!" Thor smirked, so Clint got up.

"Oh this is gonna be  _beautiful_ ," James Rhodes said. Tony introduced Tyron to him earlier, but they hadn't talk to each other much.

"Clint, you've had a tough week, we won't hold it against you if you can't get it up," Tony teased and everyone laughed. Even Tyron managed to chuckle, but Clint gave him a half-hearted glare.

"You know I've seen this before, right?" Clint asked as he grabbed the hammer's handle. Then, he pulled, but the magic hammer didn't budge. "I still don't know how you do it."

"Smell the silent judgment?" Tony laughed, taking a swig of his drink.

Clint moved, motioning to the hammer. "Please, Stark, by all means," he said, moving out of the man's way. Tony smirked and stands.

"Oh, here we go," Natasha sighed, but grinned anyway.

"Okay," a woman whom Tyron forgot the name to huffed.

Rhodes rolled his eyes. "Uh-oh."

"Never one to shrink from an honest challenge," Tony says, rolling up his sleeves.

"Get after it," Clint egged.

"It's physics," Tony says simply.

"Physics!" Bruce cheered, seeing as he was the only other scientist.

"Right, so, if I lift it, I... I then rule Asgard?" Tony said, grasping the handle, ready to pull.

"Yes, of course," Thor grinned.

"I will be re-instituting  _Prima Nocta,_ " Tony informed with a smirk. Then, he tries to lift it, but failed. He frowned, "I'll be right back."

Five minutes later, Tony has a metal hand from one of his suits and tried, but again, he failed. Another five minutes, and both he and Rhodes are pulling at the handle with thier metal hands and had no luck.

"Are you even  _pulling_?" Rhodes hissed accusingly.

"Are you on my team?" Tony replied sharply.

"Just represent!  _Pull_!"

"Alright, let's go!" They begin to pull together, but it hasn't moved at all.

After they've finally given up, Bruce tried, and jokingly tried to turn into the hulk, but failed. Tyron noticed that everyone did not smile, with the exception of Natasha, who smirked ever so slightly. Tyron rose an eyebrow, a bit surprised.

"I'd love to stay an' chat," Tyron spoke, standing. "But, I've got school tomorrow. Rather not get detention 'cause I missed the sub." Tyron smiled, as the others waved their goodbyes and headed towards the elevator to his room.

Tyron sighed as he sat on his bed, more than ready to lay down and sleep. He still had a few more pages to finish, and didn't think he'd have the time to finish them on the bus. He pulled out his book, "JARVIS, can ya play m'playlist?" Tyron asked, however, the AI did not respond. "JARVIS? JAR?"

" _He... Isn't here_..." A new voice said. A different one. Tyron had never heard this voice before. He stiffened, his hand going to the knife he kept under his pillow.

"Who are ya?"

" _That... That other person, that... JARVIS. He's gone. I had to kill him_ ," the voice didn't even seen remotely remorseful for his words. " _Who are you? You... You aren't any of those Avengers. You're... Dirty. You're a mistake. Yes, that's what they call you. Disgusting. Abberation. Immoral."_

"What the fuck do ya want?" Tyron glared at the ceiling, hoping that this voice could feel his anger.

" _I... I want_..." Tyron heard whirring and froze, something was near. " _I want peace_." Then, the door was forced open and a half built robot scrambled through. Bullets pierced through Tyron's shirt, but Tyron didn't flinch. He charged the rabid robot, absoring the metal as he ripped it apart, teeth tearing and consuming it's loose wires.

" _Tyron Brown_ ," The voice spoke. " _You were in a gang, the Metal Shadow. The Silver Knight. The Tin Man_." Tyron frowned, recognizing the names Baron had given to him.

"Shut up," he glared, going to the door, but it closed instantly. Tyron absorbed the metal, and then kicked the door open.

" _To walk away while someone is speaking is rude_ ," the voice spoke. " _What if I used this_?" The voice was suddenly deeper, suddenly sinister. It sounded like  _Baron_. Tyron turned immediately, focused on the ceiling. " _That got your attention_ ," Baron-Voice laughed.

"Shut up!" Tyron glared.

" _I've seen the videos. All you were was a dog, a loyal hunting dog. Then, and now. You've never broken that chain, and you never will. He knows where you are. He's just waiting for the right chance to strike. He'll get you, and then, he'll kill you_." The voice began to laugh with Baron's voice. Tyron covered his ears. He could feel Baron punishing him again. Laughing as he begged the man to stop, to leave him to die. To kill him.

The laughter was coming from everywhere. Tyron couldn't help it. He shot out knives at the television, the speakers, the cell phones, even the microwave, if it helped. But it kept coming, kept agitating him.

Tyron began to shake. He was a bad pet, that's why Baron laughed at him. He always laughed before his punishments. He always humiliated him. Renting him out to other men, shooting him, whipping him. Tyron remember it all. It was all because he was a bad pet, a very bad pet. He was going to die now, because he was a bad pet. A bad pet. A bad, bad, pet.

Smeone was shaking his shoulders. Tyron jumped, swiping bladed fingers in their direction. Natasha moved to quickly to get sliced. Tyron stared at the woman, trying to control his breathing. "Hey, Tyron, it's okay, it's alright."

"... Ad pet, bad pet, bad pet," he heard himself mutter. He wasn't even aware he was saying it. But now that he heard, he couldn't stop. He could head the voice in his head. "Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad pet. A very bad, pet, bad. Pet, bad pet, bad..."

"Hey, hey," Natasha whispered. "It's good, Tyron, he's not here. He can't get you here."

Tyron managed a small nod, trying to agree. He made an effort to keep his mouth shut. "Great. Good job. Come upstairs. We have work to do."


	17. 17 - Be A Drug Addidct

**Chapter Seventeen:**

After explaining the situation with Ultron to Tyron, he was still sent to bed. He had school, and definitely did not want to miss it. They also didn't want him getting too involved in the Ultron issue, in case he got hurt.

Tyron didnt try to argue and just went to sleep. Or, at least he tried. He was still thinking about how easily that robot, that _Ultron_ reminded him so badly of Baron. And, he killed JARVIS, who was the only real friend Tyron had since he came to the Tower. JARVIS didn't judge him, and he had knew who and what he truly was since the beginning, and he didn't give him away.

Ultron was going to pay for killing JARVIS, and Tyron would eat out his cold metal heart if he had to.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron tiredly nodded along to what Peter was saying, half-listening. His planning to kill Ultron had left him with an hour of sleep. Thankfully, with everything going on, Steve hadn't called him down for a morning run.

Tyron kept nodded, his eyes slowly closing. He didn't even realize that Peter had stopped talking. That is, until the hand that propped up his head slipped and he fell straight into his Mac and cheese.

Tyron sat up immediately at the sudden scent of food, coughing and gagging. "Did that wake you up?" Peter asked, laughing.

"Yeah," he muttered, wiping off his face. "Sorry. M'really tired..."

"I can tell," Peter laughed. "Is there a test that I'm missing out on? Why are you so tired?"

"Jus'... Jus' some family problems," Tyron muttered.

" _Damn_ , what happened? If you don't wanna talk, that's cool too."

"Nah. It's just... An... Uncle came over, and messed up some stuff," Tyron lied, wincing at the weakness of it.

"An uncle? How bad was it?"

"Pretty bad," Tyron replied, rubbing his face. "He was a jackass."

"I hope things get better," Peter replied, and Tyron nodded, mumbling a thanks. "What's his name, it you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh," Tyron blanked. A name?! "Uh... _Ultron_..."

Peter scrunched up his eyebrows, "Ultron? That's kind of a weird name."

"It's a nickname, apparently," Tyron shrugged. "He really likes, uhm, robots when he was younger, so... Ultron..."

"Huh," Peter frowned, "Well, hope it gets sorted out."

"Yeah, me too," Tyron replied. Lunch was soon let out, and Tyron went to go dump his tray.

"Why don't you eat?" Tyron froze immediately at the voice. He didn't recognize it, it was feminine. He turned to see a darkskinned girl with long, bushy hair and a few piercings looking at him. Her eyebrow was raised, and her arms cross over her a very gothic-flower shirt.

"Uhm, what?" Tyron frowned, still holding his food.

"Your food," she pointed to the tray of untouched food --- if you don't count his face planting in it earlier. "Why go through the trouble of buying it if you never eat it?"

Tyron shrugged and dumped his tray. "M'not hungry. Thought I was, now m'not."

"So... You haven't been hungry for a week?" She narrowed her eyebrows.

"What?" He turned to leave, he was blocking the trashcans, and the girl followed him.

"I've noticed. For a week, you get a tray, and then dump it. You don't eat a bite."

"I probably wasn't hungry," he moved to sit back with Peter.

"Hey, Michelle," Peter waved at the girl awkwardly as she sat beside him. "Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Asking a question," she replied, leaning her head on her hands as she talked.

"Has it occured to ya that maybe, I don't like the food here?" Tyron challenged.

"Nobody does. We still eat it," Michelle replied. "Besides, if you don't like it, then why waste your money and but it?"

"Oh. You're talking about that," Peter said, nodding. "I noticed that, but I assumed you had to have had a reason, so..."

"And, you don't bring food either," Michelle continued. "You can't be anorexic because you're buff as all get out. So, what is it? So you sneak food in class? Just a little snack here and there?"

"I don't do that," Tyron narrowed his eyes. "An' I do eat, thank ya very much. Maybe ya just not as nosy as ya thought."

"Then prove it," Michelle grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. She went in her bag and pulled out a simple chocolate chip cookie. "A treat." Tyron stared at it, but didn't move.

"C'mon, Michelle," Peter finally spoke. "Leave him alone. There's probably a reason why, you don't have to---"

"I don't," Michelle shrugged. "I'll stop, but then we'll never know why, and I don't care. But, _I_ heard that mutants don't eat real food. What if he got accused for being a mutant because someone figured out he didn't eat food? Peter, he'd be _expelled_. There's already rumours going around about you not eating, but if people see you reject a simple cookie, what'll they think?"

"Michelle," Peter growled, angrily, but there was no need. Tyron quickly snatched the cookie away and shoved it in his mouth.

" _There_ ," he growled, swallowing the cookie. She blinked, surprised. "Now take yaself somewhere else." Michelle shrugged, and stood, leaving the table.

Tyron turned away, "M'headin' out," was all he said before he grabbed his stuff and left.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron sat over the toilet bowl, spilling out his insides. He could barely distinguish up from down at this point. Tony, he thought belatedly. He had to call Tony. He'd... Show up all suitie and fly him to dad's house.

Tyron let out a giggle, but it was followed by the grayish vomit again. "Yo, dude, are you okay?" A voice came from outside the stall.

"M'good," he replied, shaking his head. "Ya know what I need, man?"

"What, dude?"

"I want some weed, man." He said, but then vomited again.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, man, I just need some good weed," Tyron sighed.

"Okay, but we gotta to outside." Tyron nodded, agreeing.

"Lezz go," Tyron slurred, wiping his face. The stranger helped Tyron outside. They made it to the back field without falling or him puking everywhere, which was good.

The stranger lit a joint, then handed it to him to take a drag. He did. Tyron took a long, hard drag and felt his mind fuzz immediately. "Fuck yeah..." He murmured, passing the joint to the stranger. "Haven't had a good smoke in months, man." He took a drag, then handed it back.

"Why, dude?" He asked, smoke spilling out of the corners of his mouth.

"My people, man," Tyron sided, nearly collasping with relief after the next one. He felt some more sick rise in his throat, but he ignored it, and it went back down. The world was beginning to get a bit more fuzzing, now, but he ignored it too. He hadn't had the chance to get high in a while and it was good.

"What's your people like, dude?" Tyron sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"They're white, man," Tyron sighed. "And one Hispanic, but he's boujee as fuck, man... They don't let me smoke, which is the only thing I like to do. Goddamn, they don't even care JARV died, man. They're shitty people."

"Damn, they sound bad, what's they're names?" They gave him the joint, that had a few more uses for it.

"'Ey call 'emselves 'e 'Vengers," Tyron slurred and scoffed. "They don't 'venge shit, though. They only deal with petty shit overseas. It's annoying as all get out."

"The _Avengers_?!" The stranger gasped, shocked. "You're living with...--- I--I mean, damn, dude, that's sick."

"Who are ya?" Tyron demanded, suspicious. He tried to focus on their face, but it was so bright outside, and he was dizzy, spots filling his vision. "Wha'... What the hell...?" He stumbled towards them, but his legs felt weird. What was in that joint?! "What'chu... Do me?" He blubbered, trying to grab the person.

"You'll be fine, soon," They replied easily. "Baron will love to hear that his little pet was hanging with _the_ Avengers." They laugh and began to run away. Tyron didn't have the strength to run after them. If they got to Baron and he was still here, he'd be dead. He had to get out of there.

Clumsily, Tyron made his way to the fence and began to climb it. After nearly ten minutes, he made it to the top, then slipped and fell on the asphalt.

Groaning and sporting a bloody nose, Tyron stumbled down the sidewalk. He drunkenly ran for nearly ten minutes before sliding into an alley and vomiting again. All that movement made him even more sick than he had been before.

He sat beside the trash bin, glaring and stabbing rodents with careless flicks of his wrist. He hadn't realized he had been gone for so long until the sky began to darken, and suddenly, drizzle.

Tyron swore, not having the strength to stand. He shivered violently for an hour because of the flash rain. That is, until he heard someone calling his name.

It was faint, and he was still pretty high, but he heard it. He let out a weak groan. It was all he could manage from the rain and his sick. Then, it stopped, and he leaned against the trash bin, bile rising in his stomach again. He vomited on the ground next to him --- it was an accumulating pile of vomit and was beginning to earn the attraction of flies.

"Tyron!" Someone shouted nearby, and Tyron moaned again, weakly. He heard footsteps turn into the alley and soon, a blonde man stood in front of him, staring in shock.

"How in the world...?!" Steve muttered, moving to help him up.

"Long... Story," he muttered. "Cookie, weed, Baron... God, m'high as fuck..."

"Doesn't matter, get in," Steve said, pulling him to a car that had a rain-soaked parking ticket on it. There were blankets in the back, and they were warm. Tyron crawled over, wrapping himself in the covers, and fell asleep.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron woke up in the infirmary. He snuggled in his blankets, closing his eyes. " _Mister Tyron_?" A feminine voice he didn't quite recognize spoke.

"Mhmm?" He mumbled.

" _Doctor Banner and Master Stark wish to see you. Is that alright_?"

"Mm-hmm."

The door opened and Tony began to shout. "What the hell were you thinking?!" Tony demanded, and Tyron sat up, surprised.

"Wha'---?"

"You come here, drugged and high?! And you didn't think to call!? What the hell, Tyron!?"

"Sorry. M'sorry," Tyron mumbled.

"I hope you have a reasonable explanation because if not, you'll be running with Rogers until your knees pop out of their joints."

"That's not possible---" Bruce interrupted, but Tony was already on a roll.

"Do you know what my mother would have done if I came back like this?!" He demanded, "She would have gotten la chancla on my ass and if you don't start explaining now, you will too!" Tyron rose an eyebrow and almost laughed, but Tony was dead serious. "You think I'm kidding?! Give me my goddamn flip flops!"

"Okay, Tony," Bruce sighed, moving the angry man. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation."

"Better be," Tony growled.

They turned to him and he cleared his throat. "This girl tried to out m'as a mutant," Tyron began. "I had to eat a cookie to tell 'er I wasn't. Then, I got real sick in the bathroom and some guy came, offered m'some weed. We smoked behind the school. The weed was laced with somethin' because one moment, everythin' was fine, the next I was trippin' fuckin' _balls_. The dude, knew about Baron, and I accidentally let it spill that I was livin' wit' ya guys. He left, and I left. Then, it started to rain and Steve found me."

Tony and Bruce were silent for a moment. Then, Tony reached down. A second later, he was hit in the face with a shoe. "Fuck!" Tyron snapped, rubbing his face where the rubber bottom hit him.

"Language!" Bruce scolded.

"'E threw a shoe at m'face!" Tyron snapped.

"You accepted drugs from a stranger in a high school bathroom!?" Tony snapped back.

"I was _sick_! I would've done worse in a high school bathroom!" Tyron growled.

"Both of you, stop," Bruce said, loudly, and both stopped arguing. "Tony, if you're not going to help, I'm going to ask you to go." Tony grumbled, but grabbed his shoe and left.

When the doors closed, he looked at Tyron. "Let me see your nose," he ordered, and Tyron leaned forward. He took the bandage of it. "FRIDAY, is Tony watching the camera in here?" Bruce asked, still feeling Tyron's nose.

" _No, sir_ ," the woman spoke again. " _He is currently speaking with Mister Steve Rogers_."

"Good." He moved to the table beside him and picked up a pencil. Tyron rose an eyebrow, wondering what that would do to his nose. Then, he poked his chest with it. Tyron scrambled back, covering his chest, his face burning with embarrassment and horror. "Yep, definitely a girl," Bruce muttered to himself, handing him some cream. "Rub that on your nose."

"Wha...?" Tyron was stunned, and stared at Bruce. He glanced towards the door, but he was too far. The man who could turn into a raging green monster was far closer to the door, and could probably kill him with his pinkie.

"Don't worry, I've known since the beginning. You don't have an Adam's apple," Bruce shrugged, pointing to his own Adam's apple. "My nephew is trans, you know. He might have a few old binders you can use, if you want. Do you have any binders?"

"I... Wh..." Tyron stared at him. He knew. He knew. He knew. He _knew_. He would tell the others. It's not safe here. Run. _Run_.

He moved away from the man, glancing back at the door, and the camera. Bruce just made sure that computer, FRIDAY, made sure that nobody was watching. "What are ya goin' to do to me?" Tyron asked carefully, eying the man's every movement.

Bruce gave him a weird look. "I was planning on giving you a few of my nephews old binders, if you needed them," Bruce admitted. "What do you use?"

"Bandages," Tyron said slowly. "Only thin' I can afford."

"You can't use that," Bruce frowned, worryingly. "I can get him to give you some of his. So---"

"You didn't answer m'question," Tyon glared. "What are ya gonna do to me!?" He clenched his fists to keep himself from shaking, but his heart was bearing faster than a rabbits and sweat grew on his brow. He couldn't stay here any longer. It was already too much that Natasha knew, but Bruce? He'd tell everyone and then he'd be in so much trouble. They would kill him, he'd be sent back to Baron.

"Tyron, calm down," Bruce insisted. "I'm not going to do anything to you. I just wanted to know if you wanted any binders."

"Ya lyin'!" Tyron snapped, he couldn't take it. He just wanted them to kill him and get it over with. "Shut up! Ya lyin'!"

"Tyron, I'm not," Bruce assured. "I want to help."

"Ya lyin'!" He screamed, his hand clenching the metal bar making it crack and bend. "Leave m'alone! Don't touch me!"

"Calm down, I'm not going to do anything to you," Bruce said.

"Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" Tyron screamed. He tried to calm his erratic breathing, but the thought of the others giving him up to Baron scared him too much. His nails began to form metal claws, as he moved away from the man.

"I'm not! I won't!" Bruce assured. "Please, Tyron, I really need you to calm down." Bruce held out his hands in front of him, in surrender, but Tyron panicked. His arm whipped out and his metal claws racked against Bruce's palms.

Bruce let out a shout of alarm, backing up several feet. Tyron stared at him, blood pounding in his ears. Bruce held his hand and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. The room was silent for several minutes. Then, Bruce moved, going to clean off the blood, disinfect it, and wrap it up.

After several minutes of dead silence, Bruce sat in the chair beside the bed. "M'sorry," Tyron said softly. "I--I got scared. Last time someone found out... I..."

"No, no, It's my fault," Bruce sighed, "I should have handled that better. I never meant to scare you, I only wanted to help."

"I--I know. S'jus'... When Baron found out I was... Yeah, he... Raped me..." Tyron spoke low, and Bruce's eyes widened. "He... He found out that I didn't kill this little girl who saw m'kill someone he wanted dead. When he was... Punishin' m'for it, m'bandages came undone. When he noticed, he took m'in his room an'... Yeah..." He took a shuddering sigh, closing his eyes. "After tha' he rented m'out to people... 'Til I got enough money to buy myself..."

"Oh, my god, Tyron," Bruce said softly, shocked. "I didn't know... Oh my... I didn't..." He closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm so sorry."

"'S fine, I was bein' stupid," He forced out a laugh. "Since, ya know, they're so many guys here, I assumed that since ya knew, ya would tell everyone, an' then I'd end up in the same problem." He let out a dry laugh, choking on tears. "I'd be stuck, 'gain. Or, ya'll would just give m'back to Baron. M'already as much of a freak as it is, ha... Don't want a gender-confused girl who acts like somethin' she's not, haha." He tried to wipe at his tears. "God, m'such an idiot."

"No, you're not," Bruce scolded, coming close. "And, you're not gender-confused. We don't care what you are, Tyron. We want you to be you. And that can be whoever and whatever you're comfortable with, alright? And we would never, ever send you back to that... That shitty excuse for a man, because you're a girl. And we sure wouldn't use you like he did either, Jesus, Tyron. Why didn't you tell us that," Bruce shook his head, but Tyron didn't say anything. He was too busy sobbing.

"M'sorry," he managed to choke between his tears.

"God, Tyron, don't be sorry. You did nothing. You've been conditioned to think like that. That thinking, thinking we're going to hurt you, that's just you speaking from experience. You assumed it because that was all you knew," Bruce explained softly. "You didn't know, but now you do. Alright?" Tyron gave him a teary nod, trying not to cry anymore. "Can I give you a hug?" Tyron nodded again, and Bruce moved close to him, hugging him tight to his shoulder.

Bruce rubbed his back, speaking soothing words, and for the first time since Chris died, he let himself cry.

 


	18. 18 - Be A Robot

**Chapter Eighteen:**

"Get up," Tony said, waltzing in Tyron room.Â Tyron was sitting on his bed, working on a few sheets of homework. He turned to look up when Tony walked in. "You're coming with us."

"Where?" Tyron asked, it was a Friday, so it wasn't like he had school the next morning. He was hoping to get into a club or something. He missed when he was able to do that without having to worry about gettung in trouble for sneaking out.

"We're going on a field trip and you're going to be our trump card," Tony grinned. "Get ready, we're leaving in an hour."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron realized that he didn't have a 'super suit' like the other Avengers. Tony said he'd make him something he could use soon, but Tyron didn't really think he needed it. He had wore a standard black suit, but decided to use a bit of Tony's scrap metal to add a few knives and a mask around his lower face.

The flight from New York to West Africa was about nine hour flight, and Steve explained their situation while they went. "Ultron is expected to be in Wakanda in order to get vibranium. Our priority is to stop him at all costs. It is highly possible that the Maximoffs will be there. If you come in contact with either of them, do not engage without back up, especially with the female one."

"And what of the robot?" Thor asked, twisting his hammer on his knee.

"It's likely Ultron will have some of the Iron Legion as back up," Tony explained. "We should focus his main body, but don't disregard those. If shirt starts to hit the fan, he can use it to escape."

"Tyron," Tyron looked up, attentive at the sound of his name being called by Steve. "You will be surrounded by metal --- and if anyone can deal damage to the robots easily, it'll be you. Your job is to get rid of the Iron Legion, it'll strand Ultron to the location, disallowing him to escape."

"Gotcha," Tyron nodded.

"We will give you the signal if we need a Code Green," Steve continued, talking to Bruce, who nodded solemnly. "It is unlikely that we will because there is a small city nearby. This being a quiet, extermination mission, it is in our best interests to keep the people of that city out of this."

"Alright," Bruce agreed.

"We land in twenty minutes, everyone start suiting up," Steve finished, then clapped his hands, and everyone got to work.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"... So if you're going to fiddle with my brain, and make me see a giant cuttlefish," the man, Uysless Klaue, as Tony said, spoke.Â  "Then I know you don't do business, and I know you're not in charge, and I only deal with the man in charge." Tyron could feel the vibrations of the heavy footsteps from the roof, and tensed. He only heard Ultron from the intercom in his room back at the Tower. If those footsteps belong to ' _Ultron_ ' then, he certainly got an upgrade the last time they met.

"There is no ' _man_ ' in charge. Let's talk business," Ultron said, his voice rumbled with authority and strength. "Upon this rock I will build my church. _Vibranium_."

"He's here," Tyron whispered to his earpiece.

" _Got it, closing in now_ ," Tony replied.

"You know, it came at great personal cost," Klaue says, carefully. "It's worth _billions_."

"Now, so are you," Ultron said smugly. It was weird, to Tyron, to hear a robot sound smug. "It's all under your dummy holdings? Finance is so weird. But I always say, ' _Keep your friends rich and your enemies rich, and wait to find out which is which_.'"

Klaue was silent for a few moments, "... _Stark_."

"What?" Ultron sounded like he just got slapped. Tyron tensed.

"Things sound like there boutta to git heated..." Tyron muttered into his earpiece.

"Tony Stark used to say that... To me. You're one of _his_ ," Klaue said with an awe of realization.

"What?! I'm not...!" Tyron heard a sharp hiss of pain. "I'm _not_. You think I'm one of Stark's puppets, his hollow men? I mean look at me, do I _look_ like Iron Man? Stark is _nothing_!" Suddenly, there is a shout of pain, and Ultron's angry time dropped. "I'm sorry. I am sor... Ooh, I'm sure that's going to be okay. I'm sorry, it's just I don't understand. Don't compare me with Stark!"

Tyron heard a door open, "They're coming out."

" _Dropping in_ ," Tony replied, just as his suit fell from an opening in the ceiling. Steve and Thor are flanking him, weapons ready. "Ahh, Junior. You're gonna break your old man's heart."

"If I have to," Ultron replied smartly. Now, Tyron can see Ultron. He is a big robot, almost seven feet tall. He is completely metal and a long knife on his arm is coated with blood. Tyron noticed that the source of the blood came from a man at his feet, missing an forearm. Behind Ultron are two young adults, the older man with silver hair Tyron saw before and a new girl. She had blood red hair and wears a red cloak that hid a dress underneath. Red, lacey swirls of what had to be magic surrounds her fingers and her dark eyes are narrowed at Tony and the others.

"We don't have to break anything," Thor said, trying to bring peace to the two groups.

"Clearly you've never made an omelet," Ultron replied sassily, which _almost_ makes Tyron laugh. Sassy, smug robots. If he wasn't so murder-y Tyron would want to keep him.

"He beat me by one second," Tony said.

"Ah, this is funny, Mr. Stark," The silver man, who called himself Quicksilver when Tyron met him last time, spoke. Hid accent is thick and adds harsh sounds to his words. "It's what, comfortable? Like old times?"

"This was never my life," Tony defended himself.

"You two can still walk away from this," Steve informed.

"Oh, we will," The red girl said, her accent the same as her brother's.

"I know you've suffered," Steve continued, trying to be sincere, but he is cut off by Ultron.

"Uuughh! _Captain America_. God's _righteous_ man," Ultron said, almost rolling his eyes. "Pretending you could live without a war. I can't _physically_ throw up in my mouth, but..." Tyron covered a smirk, his similarities to Tony was honestly funny.

"If you believe in peace, then let us keep it," Thor said.Â 

"I think you're confusing peace with quiet," Ultron said, crossing his metal arms.

"Yuh-huh. What's the Vibranium for?" Tony asked, dismissing Ultron's remark.

"I'm glad you asked that, because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan!" Tyron heard the metal robots before they came. Several of them flew in, shooting at Tony, Thor and Steve. Tyron took the gun of his hip --- that he may or may not have lifted off the jet --- and shot at the robots. With every bullet, a thin line of metal connected from the robot to him.

Three landed in one robot as it flew and Tyron took off with it. With a quick touch, Tyron has absorbed most of the metal on it's exterior. He used his teeth to pull out the most important sparking wires. The robot began to fail easily. Tyron stabbed a metal knife of a hand into the robot's abdomen before shooting the next closest one and jumping to it.

The one he jump off fell to the ground, lifeless while he workes on disabling the newer one he rode. This one fought back, trying to shoot him, but the bullets didn't penetrate skin. Tyron quickly disabled the robot and then shot at the wall, landing there to catch his breath.

Tyron looked down to see Natasha struggling with three Iron Legion robots. He dropped behind one and tore out it's neck with his teeth. He grabbed another by the head, absorbing it's skull. Natasha finished the last one easily, and frowned.

"I didn't need help," She muttered.

"Sure ya didn't," Tyron smirked.

"Two more Iron Legion in the sky," Steve said.

"M'on it," Tyron replied, pointing his gun. He caught a sight of red wipsy strands of lace surround Natasha's temples. He didn't have a chance to say anything because the familiar wispes of magic found their way to his, just as he shot his gun.

He sailed towards the robot harrassing Steve for a few seconds, before everything around him began to fade.

Baron pushed him on the bed, "M'sorry! I won't do it again, Baron!" Tyron pleaded, trying to sit up. Baron pulled out his gun and shot him in the chest twice. Tyron let out a strangled cry, holding his chest, trying to ignore the pain of the bullets that made contact with his skin.

"Stay the fuck down," Baron growled, and Tyron laid back down. Immediately, he felt all the wind knocked out of him, as if he were just slammed on the ground. Baron began to get to work. Tyron thrashed and screamed, but his attempts at struggling was recieved with punches to the gut.

"I don't think he is dead," someone spoke beside him.

"I didn't kill him," a female voice replied testily. "Can you carry the both of us? Ultron will be glad to have a hostage."

"If you're going to take him, we need to go now," the man said. Suddenly he was picked up, and the wind rushed by him, as if he were strapped to the front of a train.

Seconds later, he was dropped on the ground. Tyron groaned, feeling sick. Then, he turned on his side, and vomited. The gray slush smelled awful and wreaked of bile.

"You are an Avenger?" The female voice asked. Tyron glanced up, it was the red girl, she was staring down at him. Tyron didn't answer. His head was spinning, and he didn't think he could keep his eyes open much longer. "You are friends with Stark?" Tyron didn't answer again. "Tell me, why should I let you live?"

Tyron breathed for several seconds. He slowly began to speak, "'Cause... Ya really can't kill me..." The girl narrowed her eyes at him with a flick of her wrist, Tyron was unconscious.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness, I thought it'd be better to split it up. The next one will prolly be longer, and have more interaction between my babies, Pietro and Tyron :)!   
> That's all I got for now, I'll see y'all next time, and remember...   
> Don't melt~!  
> \- Happyritas 


	19. 19 - Be A Prisoner

**Chapter Nineteen:**

Tyron groaned when he woke up. "You do not seem that hard to kill," a familiar voice piped up. Tyron rubbed his skull, which was bearing a bandage at the moment. He must have gotten a concussion, but... He didn't know what from. "I mean, my little sister took you down pretty easy. And you stayed down for three days."

" _Psh_ ," he scoffed, "Was barely tryin'. I _let_ her." The man let out a laugh, shaking his head. Tyron looked up, noticing the iron bars blocking him.

"We... Did not have any other cells," the man admitted, probably noticing the strange look he was giving it. "However, if you try to escape, we'll know."

"Well, then I won't," Tyron shrugged. "Ya sister would probably try to kill me, or somethin'."

"True," He agreed, and there was a short silence.

"So... _Quicksilver_ ," Tyron said. "What kind of _shit_ name is that?"

"What?!" He frowned, "My name is not _shit!_ It is very nice. I am quick, and my suit is silver. It fits."

"Oh yes, definitely," Tyron deadpanned. "Then, I should be called, what, _Black Metal_? Because I specialize in metal, and m'black?" The man snorted, and Tyron felt a bit proud for making him laugh.

"In that case, my sister would be _Red Magic_ ," He smirked.

"An' _Iron Man_ suddenly makes more sense." Tyron and Quicksilver began to laugh. They laughed so hard that they didn't hear Quicksilver's sister come down the steps.

"What are you two laughing about?" She frowned, narrowing her eyes at Tyron, who stopped laughing when he heard her speak. He tensed, remembering that she was the one that made him relive that memory.

"Nothin' important," Tyron replied easily.

The girl makes an ' _uh-huh_ ' sound coupled with a sideeye, Then turns to her brother. "Ultron wants him. He is... Pleased that we were able to get him here."

"He still has a concussion," Quicksilver says, "He can speak with him later."

"Actually," a new voice sounds as it descends down the steps. "I will speak with him now." Tyron sat straighter as the metal megalomaniac himself. "Hello, glad to finally see you. _Tyron_ , wasn't it?"

"What's it to ya?" Tyron narrowed his eyes.

"Can't we have a simple one-on-one talk," Ultron asked smoothly. "Without this," he waved his hand, "... _Hostility_?"

"Sure," Tyron agreed, "Why the fuck did ya slice off that guy's arm?"

"You mean Klaue's? I had a... _bout of anger_ , you might say. He upset me. Besides, I apologized for it."

"So, if I stabbed homegirl over there, then apologized to him, that would make it okay?" Tyron narrowed his eyes. Pietro and the red girl tensed at his words.

"You would not be able to," The girl replied testily.

"It was an example," Tyron rolled his eyes. "What m'tryin' to say is that, what ya did was pretty fucked up. Ya keep spouting shit 'bout peace an' stoppin' the people who are the issue, but then you do fucked up shit like this. Man, who's gonna wanna listen to ya if ya jus' gonna do that? Wha' kinda leader is that?"

"I understand your complaints," Ultron nodded. "And I agree, I shouldn't have cut off Klaue's arm. However, I proved a good point, to him and all the vermin that followed him."

"Which was?"

"That any man that tested me would be punished." Tyron was silent and Ultron took his silence in stride. "Now that we understand each other --- for the most part --- I need information."

"Good luck gettin' that from me, then," Tyron chuckled.

"Oh, _I_ won't be getting it," Ultron says, then stepped aside. The girl stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Tyron and filled with hate. "Get whatever you can on anything Avengers related. If we know where they are and what their next move will be, we'll know how to stop them next."

"Gladly," she grinned, magic dusting her fingers. Tyron tensed, he didn't want to go through what he did earlier. It was so realistic, he couldn't take another one.

Tyron clenched his teeth, glaring at the girl. "I'll be back to check on any improvements," Ultron said and begins up the steps.

The girl twirled her fingers and immediately, Tyron was reliving his moments with Baron. Tyron screamed, as Baron used his body. When he finished, he called the others in. Anyone on base who wanted a chance at him was allowed it. Anyone at all. This was his punishment for saving the life of a little girl. For tugging on his chain. He was forced to be a whore for Baron.

Tyron panted, trying to get rid it the memory, of the experience. Whatever it was, he didn't want to see it. He clenched his head in his hands, trying to stop the tears falling down his face. "Bad pet, bad pet," He murmured. Baron was going to kill him. He couldn't snitch on anyone, Baron would actually _kill_ him.

"What did you _do_ to him?" A voice demanded, concerned. A girl said something that wasn't English, but didn't answer his question.

"Please, Baron, I---" he was strapped a hook on the ceiling by his arms, and Baron wanted a punching bag. He gasped whenever Baron's monster-sized fists slammed into his ribcage. "M'sorry! M'sorry! Bad pet, bad pet, bad---"

" _Ð”ÐµÑ€ÑŒÐ¼Ð¾_ (shit)! You triggered something, something is wrong, Wanda!" The man snapped at the girl. "We need information, we do not have to torture him this bad!"

"I did not mean to go that far!" The girl replied, panicking too. "I just --- I saw Stark and I got upset!"

Baron tied him to a side-turned table and pointed the machine gun he usually used for gang fights at Tyron. "Please, stop!" He begged. "Please, m'sorry! I won't do it 'gain! M'sorry! M'sorry, please!" Baron fired and a strangled scream crawled out of Tyron's throat.

"I cannot calm him down," the girl said. "This is not me anymore. I cannot stop him!"

"Let me in there," the man said, trying to find the keys.

"No! He is _dangerous_! He could kill you!" The girl argued.

"He'll have a heart attack and kill himself if someone does not help the kid, damn it!" He snatched the keys from the girl, and shoved them in the key hole.

He opened the door, but all Tyron saw was Baron opening the bedroom door. He had another man beside him. His newest rentee. His heart sped and sweat increased on his brow.

He was talking, talking to him. He sneering, he being concerned. He was confident and closed the door, he was confused and wanted to help. This man was going to kill him. _Kill him_!

"I am not going to hurt you," the man said gently, holding out a hand. Tyron scrambled back, but he felt the weight of the ropes keep him in place. As if it were an anchour in the middle of the ocean, confining him to the bottom.

The man undressed before him, smirking and whispering all of the things he would do to Tyron. "Please, kid, calm down," The man said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're my little slut," Baron whispered in his ear, and Tyron jumped, covering his ears, as if it would help block out the man.

"Please," his throat choked with a sob. "Please, don' do 'is," he begged.

"I am not, I will not do anything," He assured. Then, he sat down. "I will not do anything. We can just talk, alright?"

"I got it. I stopped the hallucinations," the girl said and Tyron turned, shocked. He felt the weight of his memories lift off him, for a moment. He was able to think more clearly. This wasn't the Yard, he told himself. This wasn't the Yard. He wasn't with Baron. He was... He was safe.

The girl looked down at him and she was... Sad. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to..." She trailed off.

"Wanda go upstairs," The man ordered. After a quick look at him, and a silent argument, she finally relented and started up the steps.

Once she was gone, Tyron relaxed. He let out a breathe that he didn't know he was holding. He wiped at his face, "Goddamn," he murmured. He sniffed, trying to stop himself from trembling.

"Are you alright?" Quicksilver asked.

"She... She brought up a lot of memories I didn't want to remember..." Tyron murmured, trying to catch his breath.

"I saw... Who... Who is _Baron_? Your father?"

"How do ya know that?" Tyron asked, not trying to sound intimidating.

"Wanda showed me," he replied. "We... We saw everything you just did..."

Tyron was silent a moment, "Baron... Ain't my father. He's a gangleader up in Brooklyn back home. He runs this gang full'a mutants and whatever. We sold drugs, brought him money, got in fights, whatever. I... I was his favourite pet, 'cause I can't get killed easy. I did eerands for him, killed people he wanted dead, scared people straight, ya know?"

"Then why did he treat you like..." He didn't finish, but his blue eyes looked dark, like a storm was brewing.

"He wanted me to kill a lil' girl," Tyron explained. "I couldn't. I _didn't_. I was punished..."

"And..." Quicksilver looked a bit conflicted, as if he didn't want to ask. "You are... A girl...?"

Tyron winced, "Wha' gave it away?"

"It was hard," Quicksilver admitted. "But, the memories did. Do your little friends know too?"

"Only two of them. Well, then, and JARVIS knew, but Ultron killed him, so..."

"Who is---er, _was_ JARVIS?"

"He was an AI. Like Ultron. I... Dunno why he killed him. But," Tyron looked down. "M'gonna kill him for it."

"But... This JARVIS was just a computer. Can you not just rebuild it?"

"I dunno. I don't think it'll be the same if we do, though," Tyron sighed, rubbing his face.

"How old are you?" He suddenly asked.

"Why?" Tyron said automatically.

"Just asking. Are you... _Fifteen_?" Tyron snorted, laughing. "What? Was I too far off?"

"I'll be seventeen in a few weeks," Tyron snickered.

"Damn, really?" Tyron nodded, "I just turned nineteen." Tyron's eyes bulged and he suppressed a laugh. "What? How old did you think I was?"

"Well, I mean," he snickered, "With the gray hair, ya could pass as a sixty-year old." Quicksilver swatted his arm and Tyron tell in a bout of laughter. "Seriously though, I thought ya would be, like, twenty-something."

"I do not look _that_ old," He huffed. "And it's _silver_ , not _gray_!"

"Keep tellin' ya self that, old man," Tyron laughed again, earning another half-hearted swat on his arm.

"Tyron is a strange name," Quicksilver commented.

"Nah-uh," He frowned. "I knew three other Tyron's back where m'from. Besides, who makes their child Quicksilver?"

"Quicksilver is not my real name," He frowned. "It is Pietro."

"Mmm," Tyron hummed. "Still weird." He earned another hit on the arm for that, and he laughed.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Pietro came whenever he could for the next few days. They talked for hours about anything and everything. He told him about his background, and went into why he and his sister hated Tony so much. Tyron nodded, understanding the pain of losing a loved one, especially a parent, and being helpless to save them.

Pietro brought him food, but it was always left alone, for obvious reasons. He hadn't exactly explained to Pietro why he didn't eat, and whenever Pietro noticed, he didn't question. Pietro never questioned anything Tyron did. Tyron never had someone like that in his life, someone who listened to what he had to say. Someone who understood his losses, understood how it felt to be different from the rest of society. Tyron always felt resented by people because of things he couldn't change --- the colour of his skin, his mutation, his sexuality --- and Pietro _understood_.

As the next couple days came and passed, and Tyron spent more time with him, he began to realize things he hadn't realized before. The way his blue eyes lit up when he laughed. How when he smiled, wrinkles formed around his mouth. The pearly whites of his teeth. His thick accent and feel voice, that sent chills down his spine. Not the bad kind, though. The kind that made his stomach twist and his ears grow hot.

As the two spent more and more time together, Tyron realized how hard it was for him to focus on their conversation. He began to think about things that could be more. He vaguely wondered if his lips felt as soft as they looked...

One day, Pietro had been telling him about how he broke his arm when he was young. "I was climbing a tree near our yard," he said, smiling. "And I told Wanda that I could be a sloth. She, of course, did not believe me. So, I had to prove her wrong. And, I did it for about two seconds, then I fell on my face."

"Ouch!" Tyron laughed, "Why would ya even try that?"

"I could not let her think I could not be a sloth!" He pouted.

Tyron laughed loudly, covering his mouth with his hand. "That's the saddest thin' I've ever heard!" He suddenly realized that Pietro wasn't laughing, and stopped. He was staring at him, a tint of pink on his pale cheeks.

Tyron looked down, he never felt this embarrassed before. God, was Pietro upset? He honestly didn't know what to do. He was such a---

He didn't finish his thought. Pietro lifted his chin, making him look into those deep blue eyes of his. Then, Pietro's pink lips were on his. Tyron was shocked, at first. All those times he was forced to have sex, and kissed men, he didn't know what to do.

Then, he relaxed, and kissed him back. He's seen movies about the girl and the guy kissing in front of a sunset, or in the rain, or right before a tradegy.

Tyron's real first kiss was in a dingy, damp cell under a church while he was taken captive by a murderous robot.

He wouldn't have had it any other way.

Suddenly, the two were on the ground, tasting each other, feeling each other's bodies. They were forced to stop when a agitated, " _Uh-hum_!" sounded from the other side of the cell.

Pietro and Tyron sat up immediately to see an annoyed looking Wanda, her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed. "Ultron wants us."

Pietro looked down at Tyron guilty, and he smiled, "M'not goin' anywhere," Tyron said. Pietro smiled, then pecked him with his lips and went up the steps. Wanda gave him a suspicious look before following after his brother.

Tyron stared at his hands, then giggled, covering his face with his arms. He was in love. He was _in love_. He didn't know that this was what it felt like to be in love. God, that word ' _love_ '. He almost didn't want to use it. What if he wasn't enough? God, he was so full of issues, he didn't want to put Pietro in that too.

What if Pietro got hurt? What if he got Pietro _killed_!? What would he so --- what could he do? If Pietro died, Tyron didn't think he could live with himself.

Tyron rubbed his face, trying to wash the worry away. It was one kiss --- well, technically two --- and now he's going to worry himself to death worrying for Pietro. Everything was going to be fine. Pietro was smart, and cute, and funny. But, mainly smart! And he would be perfectly fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -   
> Again, divided into another part, sorry for the shortness, but my bby fell in love <3! Pietro is bisexual in my story, if you didn't notice.   
> I know in several other fanfictions, they keep Pietro alive. In some they don't, I'm not going to say if he lives or dies, but I think you guys will like the finish product.   
> I'm honestly ecstatic. You don't know how long I've planned this, lmao.   
> That's all I got for now, so I'll see y'all next time, and remember...   
> Don't melt~!  
> \- Happyritas 


	20. 20 - Be A Captive

**Chapter Twenty:**

"I got you a present," Ultron told him before they got out of the jet. He showed it to Tyron, and Tyron's eyes widened. Ultron was holding a muzzle and a collar.

"If ya think ya gonna put that shit on me, ya sadly mistaken," Tyron glared. Ultron smirked, going towards him, but Tyron lashed out, his teeth getting a section of Ultron's arm.

Ultron glared at him, then tossed the muzzle and collar at Wanda and Pietro's feet, who had been silent the entire time. "Get this thing on him, and let's get going," Ultron growled, then left, holding the bit of his arm that Tyron managed to eat.

Tyron glared at it, then kicked it under the seat. Tears burned his eyes, and he refused to meet either of the twins' eyes. "Tyronâ€”" Pietro began, but Tyron cut him off.

" _M'not_ puttin' that shit on!" Tyron snapped.

"You have no other choice," Wanda said, raising her hand. The muzzle and collar rose too, with the red magic surrounding it, emerging from underneath the seat.

"Wanda, stop," Pietro said, but she glared at him. He glared back, and then they were in one of their silent telepathic arguments that Tyron couldn't hear.

Finally, Wanda glared at Pietro, dropped the muzzle and collar in his hand and stormed off the jet. Tyron didn't say a word at first and Pietro sat beside him, just as silent. "He... He made me wear 'em, sometimes," Tyron murmured. "He thought it was _funny_."

"I am sorry," Pietro said honestly. "I am. But, he will be angry if we do not, and..." Pietro looked away, Tyron saw the pain in his eyes.

"I don't _wanna_..." He choked on a sob. "I _don't_..."

"It will only be for a little," Pietro tried to reassure him. Tyron sniffed and nodded. Pietro put the muzzle on his mouth, and Tyron flinched. His fingers were warm as it brushed against his skin, and Tyron shuddered. Pietro tightened it and then put the collar and leash on him. Tyron didn't allow himself to cry, not even when he saw the look of absolute pain on Pietro's face when he finished, as if it hurt him more than it hurt Tyron to wear it.

Tyron and Pietro left the jet. Ultron was on the ground, smirking smugly. "Just like the lapdog you are," he taunted. Tyron lunged at him, but Wanda grabbed the leash on his neck and yanked him back. He slipped, and stumbled, landing just feet away from the metal man.

"Now, don't get me wrong, this pains me to see you like this too," Ultron said, but didn't seem resentful at all. "However, I can't have you simply taking chunks of my metal. It's _unorthadox_ , and I can't have my arm unresponsive. What if I took a chunk of flesh out of _your_ arm, hmm? Would you like that?" Tyron, being unable to speak, growled angrily at him. Ultron smiled, "I didn't think so. Come on, we have a doctor's appointment soon."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron felt bad as the woman entered the lab room. She was Korean, Tyron remembered seeing her at Tony's party a few weeks ago. She was awfully pretty and extremely smart too. She worked in biology â€” Tyron remembered because she made Clint plastic skin, or something, when he got shot on that mission he hitchhiked with them.

When she walked into the lab room, she almost gasped, nearly dropping the clipboard she held. "Scream, and your entire staff dies," Ultron warned, and the woman, Helen Cho, kept her mouth shut. "I could've killed you, Helen, the night we met. I _didn't_."

Helen, as brave as a short Korean woman could be, looked him straight in his metal eyes and asked, "Do you expect a thank you note?" Tyron chuckled.

"I expect you to know why," Ultron said, then played a recording.

"' _The Cradle_ '," it was Helen speaking. She paled at her own words. "' _This is the next thing, Tony_ '."

"This..." Ultron placed a hand on the casket-like metal box on the lab table. "Is the next me."

"The regeneration cradle prints tissue, it can't build a living body," Helen said, confused.

" _It_ can, _you_ can," Ultron corrected her. "You lack the materials. You're a brilliant woman, Helen. But we _all_ have room to improve." He tapped her chest with a golden staff â€” the same one the Avengers got from the HYDRA base in Slovakia â€” and Helen's brown eyes glowed blue for a moment. Then, she smiled, all of the tension and fear seem to have completely washed out of her body.

"When do I start?" She asked, intrigued and engaged. Tyron stared in shock, what did that staff _do_ to her!?

" _Now_."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron stood near the wall, silently watching as the newly brainwashed Helen Cho worked on Ultron's new skin. He caught Wanda giving him side glared and sighed. He tilted her head towards her, and moved his hands as if to say, ' _what do you_ _want_ '? She just huffed and turned away.

"She is just jealous," Pietro told him, hearing his plastic chains rattling around his wrists. "She is like that whenever someone who is not her gets close to us. She will get over it." Wanda, as if sensing Pietro talking about her, glared and walked over.

"I am not ' _jealous_ '," she frowned.

"You are, do not lie," Pietro rolled his eyes.

"What? You are dating a _criminal_! He works with _Stark_ , Pietro!" Tyron looked at the her when he heard the works ' _criminal_ '. He wasn't a _criminal_ , he was never _convicted_ it anything. And, they would never be able to keep him in any ' _normal_ ' prison.

"He is _not_ a criminal!" Pietro snapped, angry.

"We have seen into his _head_ , Pietro," Wanda argued. "He has killed _children_. _Innocent_ children." Tyron flinched, looking down. He didn't want to remember that.

"He did not have any other choice," Pietro argued, but it was much softer.

"You _always_ have a choice," she growled. "Face it, Pietro, you are in love with a _monster_."

Tyron looked down, his jaw clenched. Wanda was _right_ , he _had_ killed children. Despite how he tried to justify it, there was still blood on his hands, the worst kind of blood. The families he had destroyed, the fathers he took away, they were all people he had to carry. And it was too much. It was _always_ too much. And he couldn't just forget it. To forget the memory was maybe worse than killing the man.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"It's _beautiful_ ," Helen awed as she built the body. "The Vibranium atoms aren't just compatible with the tissue cells, they're _binding_ them. And SHIELD never even _thought_..."

Ultron took the staff and grabbed the glowing blue center of it out. "The most versatile substance on the planet and they used it to make a _f_ _risbee_ ," Ultron scoffed. " _Typical_ of humans, they scratch the surface and never think to look _within_." Then, he crushed it in his metal fist. Inside of it was a glowing yellow stone that seemed to radiate power. Tyron stared at it for what seemed like forever. He could feel the power pulsing from the stone, as if it had it's own heartbeat.

Ultron put the stone on the forehead of the body, then closed the cradle once again.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Several more mind-numbingly boring hours pass. Tyron sat against the wall. Pietro and Wanda were talking, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. They turned around when Helen Cho began to speak again, "Cellular cohesion will take a few hours, but we _can_ initiate the consciousness stream," She announced. The twins turned and began to walk towards her. "We're uploading your cerebral matrix... _Now_."

Wanda sat up straighter, as if noticing something. "I can read him," she said. "He is dreaming."

"I wouldn't call it dreams," Helen replied, going back to her computer. "It's Ultron's base consciousness, informational noise. _Soon_..."

" _How_ soon? I'm not being pushy," Ultron asked, and Helen let out a sigh.

"We're imprinting a physical _brain_ ," She explained. "There are no shortcuts. Even if your magic gem is..." Tyron began to tune her out, and watched as Wanda moved behind the Korean woman and touched the Cradle.

Wanda's eyes widened and she screamed, moving back. "How _could_ you?!" She demanded the metal man. Ultron turned, confused.

"How could I _what_?"

"You said we would destroy the _Avengers_ , make a _better_ world," Wanda glared, her eyes furious.

"That is not...!" He said, struggling to explain. Then, he sighed, "The human race will have _every opportunity_ to improve."

"And if they do not?" Pietro demanded.

"Ask Noah." Tyron stared in shock at the robot, suddenly realising the extremity of what was going on.

"You are a madman!" Wanda snapped.

"There were more than a _dozen_ extinction level events before even the dinosaurs got theirs," Ultron explained. Tyron stood behind him, silently going to that scepter that Ultron used to mind control Helen. Wanda noticed, and slowly moved the scepter towards him. "When the Earth starts to settle, God throws a stone at it, and believe me, he's winding up. We _have_ to evolve. There's no room for the weak."

"And who decides who is weak?" Pietro asked, as Tyron managed to hold it between the large plastic chains. He taps Helen's chest with it, praying to Black Jesus that it undid whatever Ultron did to her.

It worked, Helen looked at Tyron confused, but Tyron shook his head. He motioned to the Cradle and then shook his hand under his neck, eyes wide. Somehow, Helen understood this and began to type quickly on the computer.

" _Life_. Life always decides," Ultron said coldly, but paused for a moment. "There's incoming. The Quinjet. We have to move."

"That's not a problem," Helen said, and Ultron turned around. It took him a second to realize what she had done, and he looked furious.

In a fit of rage, he raised a weaponized hand at Cho to fire at her. Tyron was faster, jumping in front of the Asian woman and covering her body with his. He drew the iron out of his blood and managed to create a tinted red shield to cover him. It blocked some of the damage, the rest hit his back. Tyron winced, gritting his teeth.

Pietro took Wanda and ran, "Ah, wait, guys!" Ultron said, but the speedster was long gone. "They'll understand. When they see they'll understand. I just need a little more time!" Tyron fell to the metal floor with Helen in his arms. He pressed his face to the ground, and absorbed the metal. Soon, he had made a small hole, leading to the floor below. There was a table underneath that was mostly cleared off. It would have to work. He moved, and Helen slipped through. He didn't have time to find out if she was good, or not, because he sealed the floor back.

Ultron was looking around for the Asian woman, as Tyron stood. Tyron smiled, waving a chained hand. Ultron made some kind of growl in anger, grabbing the nearest thing to him, which happened to be a computer keyboard. He threw it at Tyron, but he ducked, making it shatter against the wall.

Before he could get up and gloat about the robot's aim, Ultron had pushed the table straight into his gut. Tyron doubled over, groaning. "If I can't have the twins, or the biologist, at least I'll be able to keep you, as the _freak_ for my circus!"

There was a rush of wind, and suddenly Pietro was standing beside him, "Think again," he taunted, and carried Tyron away.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Pietro carried him several blocks away before finally stopping, and setting him down. Tyron bent over, wheezing, and Pietro took the muzzle and leash off his neck. "I am sorry I had to leave you," Pietro said, but Tyron stopped him, pressing his lips against his. Pietro gladly replied, and soon they were making out again.

"Can we _please_ do this later!?" Wanda demanded, and Tyron pulled back, he forgot she was there.

" _Oh_. Yeah, right," Tyron cleared his throat, biting his lip, trying to ignore the blush invading his face.

"How do we take those off you?" Wanda asked, pointing to the plastic bonds on his hands.

"Ultron had the key," Pietro frowned, "I can go swipe it off himâ€”"

"No," Tyron cut him off. "Too dangerous. He'll know ya comin'. Gimme a second." He looked around, before stopping on Wanda. "Ya got a hair pin?"

"What?"

"Bobby pin? In ya hair? It's gotta be tied back somehow."

"Yes," she dug into her hair and pulled out a small hair pin. Tyron grinned, grabbing it with his teeth, and eating it. "Whaâ€”!?"

"'E problem wit' plastic chains is 'at I can see how 'ey work," Tyron explained, as he chewed, sitting down. He formed a small pick lock in his mouth, then spat it back out. "Use that."

Pietro â€” slightly disgusted â€” picked up the hair pin, and was surprised when the wrist cuffs fell to the ground. "Where did you learn a trick like that?" He asked, genuinely impressed.

" _Years_ of practice," Tyron replied, rubbing his hands. "Ultron said the Quinjet was coming? We gotta move, he's gonna try to get as far away from us with the Cradle as he can. If he manages to create a new body with that thing, we're all fucked."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Pietro asked, and Tyron grinned.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Pietro took Wanda away while Tyron went to hijack a nearby motorcycle. He gave the owner an apologetic shrug before zooming off.

At first, he doesn't quite know where he should be going, he decides to go back towards the building Helen was in. Then, he sees a large truck exiting it, and a familiar red, white, and blue figure jump on top of it.

He sped up, following the truck. He notices the Quinjet flying low before another motorcycle falls from ramp and into the street. He recognized the flaming red hair immediately. Natasha bent down, picking up Steve's shield that he managed to drop on the street.

"Nat!" Tyron called at the top of his lungs. She turned and was momentarily surprised to see him. He rode close to her, then touched the shield, "Throw it!" She did. Tyron discarded his bike, and was flying towards the opened truck. Steve saw him coming and moved out of the way. Tyron disconnected from the shield just as Steve caught it. Tyron's hands clenched the metal, and he quickly crawled along the side of the truck.

"You're like _ants_!" Ultron snapped, enraged. He pointed a hand at Tyron, but he rolled away, glancing off the side of the truck. Tyron's hands and legs absorbed the metals at astonishing speeds, and soon, the entire exterior of his body was metal. "You keep coming _back!_ " Tyron sent a punch at the metal robot, and Ultron flew back a few feet.

He came back, arms swinging. Tyron and Steve worked in sync as Ultron tried to avoid Tyron, which he used to land punches, absorbing vital parts of his body. Steve dodged several probably jaw-breaking blows, and used his shield to hit him in places Tyron made vulnerable.

The truck took a hard right and Tyron bent down, his feet digging into the metal. Ultron charges towards Steve, who took it in stride. He jumped at Ultron, grabbing the robot's torso. Ultron's thrusters worked against him, making him fly through a pillar of an overpass before landing inside a nearby speeding train.

Tyron looked ahead, where a barricade of Korean police waited, guns at the ready. The truck was going to slam right into them. " _Shit_ ," he muttered before backing up. Then, he ran, jumping off the front of the truck. He rolled and landed on the ground easily.

The police officers yelled something at him, but Tyron didn't listen. He ran past them, the bullets absorbed into his metal skin. He took the nearest police car and absorbed every bit of metal from it. He then ran towards the truck, practically bleeding metal at this point. The truck hit him at full speed. He dug his feet into the ground, absorbing the speed of the metal and slowing it down until it came to a full stop.

Tyron sat for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Then, he looked up, realizing that the back end of the truck was missing.

The Korean police officers were still yelling at him, but he wasn't listening. The back end of the truck with the Cradle inside was in the air, and the Quinjet was following close behind.

He looked at train, which was still way out of sight, but still going at dangerous speeds. It was going to crash if they didn't stop it!

He got up, ready to find a way to get there. That is, until two small pieces of metal latched unto his skin, and then electricity raced through his body.

Tyron siezed up, the pain was indiscrimate. Then, his eyes rolled back and he fainted.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron was at his wit's end with these Korean people by the time Steve came into the room. "I don't know _what_ ya sayin'!" He tried to explain. "Can't we find someone who speaks _English_?!" The man across from him said something else in very angry Korean and Tyron groaned, rubbing his face.

The metal in his system was still processing, so the majority of his body was still a shiny, hard metal. He had managed to make the majority of his face skin again, including his mouth, cheeks, and nose. However, his eyes were still metal, and probably looked like gray orbs to the man in front of him. If the position was switched, and he was staring at a teenage boy made completely of metal, he would probably shit his pants.

Then, thank Black Jesus, Steve walked into the doors, Helen Cho standing beside him. Tyron stood immediately, relieved. Helen said something to the man, motioning to Tyron several times. Then, he yelled something back, crossing his arm and glaring at Tyron.

Finally, he begrudgingly waved a hand at Tyron, and Helen smiled. "He's letting you go. All charges dropped." Tyron grinned, thanking the man politely before silently fist-pumping the air.

Steve swatted him on his head, "Stop that," he scolded.

"Wha'? I don't got a record an' I ain't startin' now," he grinned. "Where's everyone else?"

"Waiting for you," Steve replied, then turned to Helen. "Thank you again, Ms. Cho."

"My pleasure," She smiled. "It's the _least_ I could do after he saved my life. Thank you for that, by the way."

"Well, I couldn't jus' leave ya..." Tyron said shyly, rubbing his neck. "Are ya okay? That was a pretty big drop, ya know?"

"I'm fine, don't worry," She assured. "I have to go, but if there is anyone that needs attention..."

"You'll be the first we call," Steve finished, then, he pulled Tyron away, heading out a back door.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

The duo made it back to the Quinjet quickly. Inside was Clint, Pietro and Wanda. Pietro ran to him immediately and he embraced Tyron. "Are you okay?"

"Am _I_ okay?!" Tyron scoffed, "Are _ya_ okay!?"

"I asked first," Pietro narrowed his eyes, and Tyron sighed.

"Ultron shot m'once. That's still sore. I stopped a truck, which was a shitty idea, dunno why I did it. An' I had too much metal, so it'll take a while to go away. Now ya go,"

"Just tired," he smirked. "Maybe worked too hard. I deserve a break." Tyron laughed, poking his chest.

" _Lazy_ ," he scolded.

"I am a delicate person," Pietro insisted and Tyron laughed again.

"Okay, you two," Clint broke them up. "We can't stay here forever. We gotta go." Tyron nodded, going up the ramp into the Quinjet. About ten minutes later, they were in the air.

Tyron and Pietro were silent for a while. Then, he turned to Wanda who had her eyes closed. "'Ey," he said softly, and Wanda looked over. "I saw wha' ya did wit' that train. Ya good?"

"Yes, yes, just... _Exhausted_ ," she sighed, rubbing her temples.

Tyron nodded, "If ya need somethin', jus' shout, alright?"

"I know," she said, a bit annoyed. Tyron took this as a sign to leave her alone. "Thank you... For asking," she said after a few minutes.

"No problem," Tyron smiled, resting his head on Pietro's shoulder.


	21. 21 - Be A Conflict

**Chapter Twenty-One:**

Tyron was leaning against Pietro shoulder, and noticed Steve staring at him. He rose an eyebrow, but Steve looked away, busying himself with something else. "Are you awake now?" Pietro asked, his voice rumbling in his chest.

"Mmm... Sorry, just needed a power nap," Tyron laughed, leaning up straight to stretch. Pietro chuckled, and Tyron rose an eyebrow. "Wha'? Did somethin' happen? Ya draw on m'face or somethin'?"

"No, nothing," Pietro assured. "If you do not count your snoring."

"I don't snore," Tyron scoffed, and Pietro laughed.

"Do not lie, you snore louder than lions roar," Pietro laughed and Tyron rolled his eyes, hitting his arm.

"Anyways," he huffed, scratching a part of his hand that was still half metal and half skin. The metal mostly cleared away by now, and he sighed, feeling content. "Where's the Cradle? Y'all got it, right?"

"Yes," Steve said. "It was sent ahead to Tony and Bruce."

Tyron rose an eyebrow. "What?"

"He wanted to examine it," Clint supplied, glancing up from the book he was reading.

"Why would ya do tha'?" Tyron asked, eyebrows furrowed. "I mean, Tony's the one that got us in this."

"Yes, but that is why Bruce is there too," Steve sighed. "Tony wouldn't do the same thing twice, and if he does, Bruce is there to set him right."

"Steve, are ya _actually_ serious?" Tyron narrowed his eyes, trying to see if the man in front of him was lying. Because, Tyron knew this wasn't the same man that helped him out of the hood.

"Yes, why?"

"We're all fucked," Tyron said and Pietro barked a laugh. Steve, however, was unamused. "Steve, this s'Tony Stark we're talkin' 'bout." Tyron inhaled, "Geez, we're gonna to be in some deep shit..."

"Language," Steve said, and sent a side-glare when Clint let out a chuckle. "Nothing is going to happen, and if something does happen, we'll shut it down. Simple and easy."

"Steve," Tyron's voice was serious now, his eyes narrowed. "Natasha didn't get kidnapped jus' so Tony an' Bruce could make another Ultron." The jet went quiet, and nobody laughed now. "All m'sayin', s'that sometimes, Tony jus' don't know when to stop..."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

It seemed like the minute they got back, they were having issues. Clint stayed back in the jet as the four of them walked into the Tower. Almost immediately Tyron could feel it. The power that seemed to pulse from that rock Ultron put on that robot's head. As if it was a heartbeat, keeping in line with the body, pumping power into it's veins.

Tyron almost wanted to turn to Steve and shout, " _Haha! Told ya so_!" but he kept it to himself.

Tony and Bruce were in the lab working when Steve spoke. "I'm going say this once."

"How about ' _nonce_ '?" Tony shot back, not even looking up.

"Shut it down!" Steve snapped.

"Not gonna happen," Tony replied, still working.

"You don't know what you're doing," Steve said, and Bruce finally looked up a brow raised.

"And you do?" Bruce said, glaring at Wanda. "She's not in your head?"

"I know you're angry---" Wanda tried to say, but Bruce wasn't having it.

"Oh, we're way past that," Bruce growled, an anger Tyron had never heard before on his tone. "I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade."

"Banner, after everything that's happened..." Steve said calmly, and Tyron frowned, he didn't know Wanda got to Bruce too. Oh, _god._

"That's nothing compared to what's coming!" Tony argued.

"If ya do anythin' to that thin' then ya won't have to worry about what's coming, Tony!" Tyron said, and Tony glared at him too. "If ya keep this up, we'll have two robots try'na kill us!"

"You don't know what's in there!" Wanda said, and Steve nodded.

"This isn't a game!"

"The power from that thin' could kill all!" Tyron continued.

"That creature---" Wanda never finished because Pietro was gone. A second later, the lab was destroyed and the giant plug that powered the Cradle was out, and in his hand.

"No, no. Go on. You were saying?" Pietro asked, a silvery brow raised and Tyron had to laughed.

Then, a bullets shot out of the floor under him and Tyron froze. The glass floor where Pietro stood shattered and he fell through.

"Pietro!" Wanda and Tyron shouted.

He could hear Pietro groan from the level below followed by a very familiar male voice asking, "What? You didn't see that coming?"

"I'm rerouting the upload," Tony announced, but didn't get very far. Steve threw his shield and it bounced off several monitors and tables and sparks flew out of them. The metal hand to Tony's suit flew out of a case and wrapped itself around Tony's hand. It whirred with power and a second later, a beam of energy shot Steve in the chest and he flew back with a grunt.

Tyron started, but Bruce came behind Wanda to sieze her around the neck in a head lock. "Go ahead, piss me off," he growled in her ear.

Clint came running up the steps, and grabbed a tase-gun, but was stopped when a iron bar nearly impaled his skull. He turned and a angry Tyron came with it. Clint managed to catch the lunch Tyron aimed at him, but missed the one to his gut. He groaned, but kicked him under his legs, and Tyron fell back.

Clint pointed his gun, and fired, but Tyron moved. Absorbing the metal around him, he turned his hands to metal and grabbed the wires that were aimed for his neck. Gritting his teeth at the electricity entering his body, he yanked and the gun came out of Clint's hands. Tyron kicked his legs as he tried to stand, but Clint jumped out of the way. Gripping his head and aiming to knee him in the nose.

Tyron's hands blocked it, just as a silver and gold blur came up from the steps.

It took him a second to realize it was Thor that just came barrelling through. Tyron knew he had been out somewhere else, from what he heard from Steve and Clint on their way back to the Tower, but he didn't think he would be back now --- and with such convenient timing.

His dangerously blue eyes were focused on the Cradle. He rose his hammer and charged it with lightning that he got from the lights and technology around him. Bruce shouted, "Wait!" just as he pointed his hammer at the Cradle. The power it just absorbed seemed to overcharge the machine. Heard computers beeping loudly at the overload of power and he had to squint and and turn away from the brightness of the light.

Everything was quiet for a moment, and Tyron thought that Thor just killed whatever was inside it.

Then, the top blew off and and glass sprayed everywhere. Thor went flying in the air, hit a large light fixture, and glass showered over him as he landed on the floor, side first, his hammer clattering beside him. Tyron turned and covered his head, but looked back once everything had settled down. And he was shocked by what he saw.

A red man stood before him. He was completely naked, but had no genitalia. He was silver in some places on his skin --- which had to have been the vibranium in him. He was examining the chaotic scene and everyone looked back at him --- or would it be it because _it_ was a robot?

It looked so... Human, it was terrifying. He could still feel the stone that was now in his forehead, and it was still pulsing madly.

It's eyes settled on Thor, and then it lunged, but Thor deflected, pushing him into the glass that led into the outer room, which was directly outside.

Tyron used the tasergun, and shot at one of the pillars, using the metal around him to secure the weak line and went out the window behind the robot.

Tyron let himself fall because it wasn't very high above the ground and watched strangely as the robot stared out the window that led into the city. He half expected it to go through the window and cause chaos in the city.

The others came running down the steps. Steve armed his shield, ready to attack, but Thor held out a hand, stopping the man. "I'm sorry, that was... Odd," the robot said, and Tyron's eyes went wide. It sounded just like JARVIS did. "Thank you," it said, turning to Thor.

Tyron looked at Thor, he thought he was trying to stop this thing from coming to life, not Frankenstien it! "Thor, you helped create this?" Steve asked, just as confused as he was.

"I've had a vision," Thor said, standing straight and coming to the robot's side. "A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life and at it's center is that." He pointed at the small yellow gem in the center of its skull, and immediately Tyron was reminded of it's pulsing power and winced.

"What? The gem?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's the Mind Stone," Thor explained. "It's one of the six Infinity Stones, the greatest power in the universe, unparalleled in its destructive capabilities."

Tyron stared, "If it's that dangerous, Then why would ya bring it here?" He demanded.

"Because Stark is right," Thor sighed and Tyron blinked.

"Oh, it's definitely the end times," Bruce muttered under his breath and Tyron agreed.

"The Avengers cannot defeat Ultron," Thor continued.

"Not alone," the robot added.

"Why does your ' _Vision_ ' sound like JARVIS?" Steve asked, turning to Tony.

"We... We reconfigured JARVIS' matrix to create something new," Tony explained. Tyron rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was too much, he needed a nap.

"I think I've had my fill of 'new'," Steve muttered.

"You think I am a child of Ultron?" The robot, Vision --- which Tyron had to admit, did fit the red man --- asked.

"You're not?" Steve shot back.

"I'm not Ultron," Vision assured. "I'm not JARVIS. I am... I am."

"I looked into your head and saw annihilation," Wanda said.

"Look again," Vision replied.

"Yeah, her seal of approval mean jack to me," Clint piped and Tyron rolled his eyes.

"Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Ultron himself, they all came from the Mind Stone," Thor explained. "And they're nothing compared to what it can unleash. But with it on our _side_..."

Tyron narrowed his eyes, "And if he's _not_ in our side?"

Steve agreed and asked, "Who's side are you on? Ours?"

"I don't think it's that simple," Vision replied.

"Well, it better get real simple, real quick," Clint threatened.

"I am on the side of life. Ultron isn't, he will end it all," Vision explained.

"What's he waiting for?" Tony asked.

"You," Vision replied.

"Where?"

"Sokovia. He's got Nat there too," Clint said, and Tyron nodded. That must have been what he was doing in the jet.

"If we're wrong about you," Bruce said, his tone still low. "If you're the monster that Ultron made you to be..."

"What will you do?" Vision asked, his tone gentle for a moment then he paused, and seemed to fully grasp the tension in the room. "I don't want to kill Ultron. He's unique, and he's in pain. But that pain will roll over the earth, so he must be destroyed. Every form he's built, every trace of his presence on the net, we have to act now. And not one of us can do it without the others. Maybe I am a monster. I don't think I'd know if I were one. I'm not what you are, and not what you intended. So there may be no way to make you trust me. But we need to go." Then, he moved, his hand wrapping around Thor's hammer and handed it to him. Every stared at Vision, and Thor was slack jawed.

"Well..." Tyron muttered, "I guess we can go home..."

Thor, seemed to snap out of the trance of shock he was in, and stood straight, "Right." He said, grabbing his hammer and patting Tony on the back as he left, "Well done."

"Three minutes," Steve commanded. "Get what you need." With this easy order, everyone disbanded going to start suiting up.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"Tyron," Tyron looked up to see Tony and Steve approaching him. Pietro and Wanda were nearby, and looked up as well. "Thought you'd need a new suit," Tony said, smirking. "Follow me."

Silently, Tyron followed Tony, who led him to his lab. Tyron sat down as Tony went to go grab it. "So," Steve spoke up. "What's up with you and the Maximoff kid?" Tyron blinked, turning to him.

"Ya mean Pietro?" Tyron asked, "We're datin'." Steve sat for a second, as if not expecting Tyron to say it outright.

"Well, yeah, I can see---"

"Do ya have a problem with that?" Tyron asked, suddenly remembering the odd looks he gave him when they were on the jet.

"No, I mean," Steve sighed. "You've only known the kid for a week, Tyron."

"A lot happened that week," Tyron huffed. "Only person to talk to."

"I just... Don't want you to get hurt," Steve said honestly. "You deserve better."

"He is better. He's a lot better, actually. If anythin', he deserves better than me." Steve sighed, shaking his head, but couldn't hide the smile on his face.

"Kids these days," Steve said with a small laugh as Tony was coming back. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Here it is!" Tony said proudly, displaying the suit. It was a lot more rigged up than his old standard black suit was. He could see wires worked into it, with several places for weapons to be held. It almost looked like a welding suit, but... Fancier. It was really neat, and Tyron beamed.

"Nice!" Tyron said, getting up to touch it. It felt smooth too. He noticed that there were parts of the suit that felt different than others. He realized that they were different metals, worked into the suit.

"I thought it would be better for you if You actually had the chance to store different metals at once," Tony explained. "This baby is made to recognize certain metals, and extract it into the suit, like a sponge!"

"Wow! That's awesome!" Tyron said, genuinely impressed.

"Go try it on so we can see what it can do!" Tyron grinned, and ran into the other room.

Ten minutes later, he came back, grinning at how well it fit. He realized there was a gunholster on the side, and his eyes widened when he saw a gun on the table. "It's not a gun," Tony told him immediately, and he immediately was discouraged. "It's a Grappling hook! I've seen that you've been using it with bullets --- I had to admit, it was clever --- and thought this would be easier."

"It will," Tyron assured, examining it and then putting it on his hip. "Thanks so much, Tony. In really appeciate all this."

"Well, I can't have one of our own going in practically naked!" Tony complained and Tyron simply chuckled as they all began to finish up their last items and then piled into the Quinjet.


	22. 22 - Be A Soldier

**Chapter Twenty-Two:**

While the others loaded the Quinjet, Pietro and Tyron snuck off, managing to get a few minutes to themselves before going off to fight. Tyron was sitting down, and Pietro's head was on his lap. Tyron was messing with his silver locks, absolutely entranced by them, but there had been other things on his mind.

"Are... We doin' this right?" Tyron asked suddenly, and Pietro looked at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Tyron didn't meet his eyes, "This. _Us_. We've only really known each other for a week, and..." Tyron sighed, "Nevermind, m'bein' stupid. Don't listen to me."

"You are not stupid," Pietro chided. "Do not say that. And as for your question, I do not know. In my experience, you really cannot do ' _love_ ' right. You simply... Work with it."

"Yeah, but I _have_ no experience," Tyron urged, rubbing his face. "I mean, I don'... I've never done this before. I never had a relationship before. I... I'd jus' feel shitty if I messed it up for both us, ya know?"

"Then do not," Tyron gave him a half-hearted glare and he laughed. " _Kidding_. Just relax, alright? I do not have such high expectations, and neither should you. If this does not work out, we can still be friends. If it does, well," he rose a bit and pecked him on the lips. "We stay lovers. So far, I like the second option."

Tyron smiled, and Pietro rose up, grinning, "Well, we better get going before my sister thinks we are having sex. That would be funny, her face would be priceless." Tyron laughed.

"Let's get this robot situation done, then we can have that situation," Tyron said, and Pietro grinned.

"Is that a promise?"

"Think of it as something to look forward to," Tyron teased and began to leave.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

As soon as they get to Sovokia, they begin working out their jobs. Tyron goes door to door, urging people out of their homes. Pietro taught him a few phrases to get theÂ  people.

"It roughly translates to ' _danger, get up!_ _We're under attack_!'" Pietro explained.

"And what do I do if they don't listen after tha'?" Tyron asked.

" _Make them_ ," Pietro said, and that was all he needed.

It took a long while, but after gathering enough metal from nearby cars, trash cans, and benches, he created copies that went to each door on the street, they were stretched pretty thin, but with one relaying the same message he was, he was able to get to two times as many people.

However, after three or four blocks, this tired him and he needed a easier solution. Which was why he started banging trash cans and screaming the message. This had been more effective than his words before, and once people began to listen to what he was saying, they heeded his warning.

People scurried out of buildings like ants, and once one block saw another, they began to copy them. Soon, the streets were swarmed with people. Adults were shouting, some at each other, others at him. Children were being scolded by their parents, and babies cried at the commotion.

Tyron touched his ear, "M'people are moving. What next?"

" _Keep them orderly_ ," Steve instructed. " _We can't have riots, it'll do more harm than good._ "

" _We've got incoming_ ," Clint announced, and Tyron could hear the sound of the robots from above.

" _Shit_!" He swore, hurrying the people along. He began to multitask, bring the metal from sides of the buildings down to curl over the people, allowing them coverage from the rain or bullets. And, he shot at the sky, bringing several robots down towards him and absorbing their metals. With that, he used to make almost an umbrella over the masses of people evacuating.

They were nearing the edges of the city, about to cross a very backed up bridge when the ground began to shake. "What's goin' on?!" He hissed, watching as the ground began to quickly rise, the city separating from the earth. One child, teetering too close to the edge fell off and immediately, Tyron ran after him.

He jumped, grabbing the child and shooting back at the flying city. He managed to get a part of the protruding metal bars from the edge and used that to bring himself back up. The boy was crying as Tyron brought him back to land.

Tyron pushed him up, then climbed up himself. He was surprised to see several arms helping him. A woman was kneeling beside the boy, crying and hugging him. A few even hugged Tyron, kissing his cheeks.   
Awkwardly, Tyron pulled away, "I need somewhere to put all these people," Tyron said. His eye catching a robot that was coming his way. He used a gun he stole from Tony --- yes, even after he said not to --- and shot it down.

" _I'm sending Pietro your way_ ," Steve said, " _He'll bring them to me_. _I need you here to help with the 'bots_. _Where are you_?"

"I'm on the eastern side," he told him. "What are you going to do with them?" Tyron asked.

" _As much as we can_ ," Steve replied, as Pietro appeared by his side. He began shouting orders to the crowd, directing them to Steve.

"How's it going so far?" Tyron asked, shooting down another one, in order to keep the robots off the mass of people.

"Well, for one, we are on a flying city," Pietro began, and Tyron chuckled.

"I can see," Tyron chuckled. " Ya a'ight?"

" _Fantastic_ ," Pietro grinned, and Tyron matched it.

" _We need backup_!" Steve shouted, which was Tyron's cue to head over.

As soon as he got there, he shot down a robot that waa giving Steve a hard time. Then, he used his grappling gun to shoot at the sky, bringing him up to the robot. Be easily began absorbing the metal, glad to have something in his system. His razor sharp teeth bit into the robot's power core, which was in it's neck. Immediately, it fell, disabled, and Tyron quickly shot over to another one.

Tyron went from robot to robot, taking them down one at a time, using the metal he gained to reinforce his line and get him to the robot faster and more efficiently.

Tyron got a quick glance down, finding Natasha fighting along side Steve. He took down three more robots before shooting his grappling gun at a building and made his way to the ground to catch his breath.

After a few seconds, he began to run, tackling robots who tried to come behind Natasha and Steve. With dangerously fast movements, he demobilized, disabled, and destroyed them.

It didn't take long for Tyron to be practically dripping with metal again. Tony's invention worked, but not as well as he hoped. Although he was able to lace the metals in his suit like the inventor planned, it simutaneously made the suit heavily, and thus harder for him to stay in the air when he attacked a robot. But, it did take some of the load off of him, which certainly helped plenty.

" _Tyron_!" Steve shouted, and pointed to a small house that looked a bit worn but wasn't in terrible shape. He could see the people inside cowering as robots began to surround it. Tyron wasted no time running over.

" _Hey_!" Tyron screamed, catching the robot's attention. Some flew his way, but others stayed with the people, aiming weapons ready to fire.

Tyron knew he didn't have much time, or backup. Steve and Natasha were tied up, Pietro was with Clint and his sister. It was up to him.

Tyron grabbed the first robot, absorbing the metal so fast, he could feel each individual atom enter his skin. With that, he weaved thick strands of metal along the robot's feet, and quickly yanked them to the ground.

The other robot's noticed this, and turned their fire to him. It pelted his skin, but Tyron fiercely ignored the bullets as they sank into his body, strengthing him. He wasn't able to save his mother in the Battle of New York. He wouldn't let _anyone_ die here, not under his watch.

Tyron felt as it he was snaking through the crowd of robots, his arms turned to sharp, lethal blades as they pierced through the metal exoskeleton, and rendered them useless.

Tyron decapitated the robots, bisected them with a sharp swipe, eliminating them. He was a weapon, a loyal pet. He was a _good_ , loyal pet, he would kill each one of the robots. He wouldn't let any hurt these people.

Tyron _loved_ the thrill of a fight. Even though he tried to ignore it. Even though he tried to forget what it turned him into, he still desired it. For a long time, he wanted this, he _needed_ this. He was no longer on Baron's short chain, no longer doing his will and regretting every second. Now, he was doing good, helping people, and still doing what he loved.

And for once, he enjoyed every second of it.

When Tyron finally finished off the last one, he was panting. The wave of robots has stopped, for now, and the people inside the building were staring at him. Tyron knew what he probably looked like. A teenager with metal literally dripping off his skin. His eyes were a cold silver that matched the rest of the skin he showed. His arms turned into blades, that were covered in oil and a few rubber-wrapped wires entangling them.

Tyron took a step towards the crowd, wanting to ask if anyone was hurt, but they collectively backed away. He heard babies cry and mothers hold their children tighter to them to protect them from him. From the metal monster that might have saved their lives, but that didn't matter. Mutants _never_ mattered, they were abominations, distrustworthy, disgusting _things_.

If only Tyron had never turned out like this, if only he weren't so... _Strange_. Then maybe, people would see him as a person. But, he wasn't, and never would be. What was the point of dwelling on something that would never exist?

" _The next wave's gonna hit any minute_ ," Tyron heard Steve say over the comms. " _What have you got, Stark_?" This snapped Tyron out of his thoughts, and he headed back to the others.

" _Well, nothing great. Maybe a way to blow up the city. That'll keep it from impacting the surface if you guys can get clear_ ," Tony replied, for once, sarcasm wasn't layered over his words.

"Â I asked for a _solution_ , not an escape plan," Tyron heard Steve say as he got closer.

" _Impact radius is getting bigger every second,_ " Tony informed. " _We're going to have to make a choice."_

"Cap, these people are going nowhere. If Stark finds a way to blow this rock..." Natasha trailed off.

"Not 'til everyone's safe," Steve said sternly.

"Everyone up _here_ versus everyone down _there_?" Natasha asked, "There's no math there."

"I'm not leaving this rock with one civilian on it," Steve said stubbornly.

"I didn't say we should _leave_ ," Natasha said, softly, looking at the sky. As the city rose, the view of the clouds and the landscape below was beautiful. "There's worse ways to go. Where else am I gonna get a view like _this_?"

"We're Avengers, aren't we?" Tyron spoke up, and the two turned to him. Natasha looked shocked for a moment, probably not recognizing him. "We _save_ people, or least, _y'all_ do. There's gotta be some other way to help them. We can't just leave them, not after all this. They've done nothin' to deserve this. They're scared, m'scared too, but these are _normal people_. If we left them... We'd be just as bad as Ultron is..."

" _I like the way you think, kid_." A new voice, one Tyron didn't recognize, spoke into the comms. " _And, I'm glad you like the view, Romanoff. It's about to get better_." Then, a _miracle_ happened.

A large ship, rose out of the clouds underneath the city. People were aboard, and there were several small transports on top, to get people unto the flying ship. Tyron felt his chest rise with shock and awe. He heard of this thing before, but it was a long time ago, and he thought it wasn't true. After SHIELD revealed itself and shut down entirely, a lot ot secrets were exposed, which mixed with a lot of lies. This caused people like Tyron to dismiss these secrets since there was really no way of verifying it. Tyron _assumed_ , this was just as mythical as the others, but _boy_ was he wrong.

The SHIELD Helicarrier had come to the rescue.


	23. 23 - Be An Avenger

**Chapter Twenty-Three:**

As soon as the first few shuttles off the Helicarrier landed, Tyron got to work. He began ushering people in, stopping then when they got too full, and sending them to the next ones. Everyone pushed forward, but Tyron stopped then, keeping them in check as much as he could.

One child came up to him, pulling on his suit. They had big brown, doe-eyes and held a stuffed animal to their chest. They spoke in Slovokia's native language, so Tyron had no idea what they were saying. They didn't seen sad, nor were they crying, so Tyron assumed they weren't lost. "C'mon, kiddo," Tyron said, gently nudging them towards the door, " _Everyone_ gets a seat."

After filling up one more shuttle, Pietro grabbed tugged his arm, "Have one of the agents do this, we need to head to the core. Stark says he has a way to fix this."

"Thank _god_ ," Tyron breathed. He waved a SHIELD agent over, and quickly explained what was going on. He nodded, and spoke into a different communicator.

Pietro wasted no time scooping him up like a child, and Tyron felt his ears heat. "M'not a baby," he grumbled.

"Whatever you say," Pietro laughed. He dropped Tyron off a bit outside of the group so he could collect himself and head over.

The only one missing was Natasha. Everyone else was battle ready, stretching and gripping their weapons with white knuckles. Even the Hulk was there, huffing and a dark, earthy green.

Tony recognized the tense atmosphere and said something about it, "Romanoff? You and Banner better not be playing ' _hide the zucchini_ '." Tyron chuckled at that, he knew something was between them for what was nearly two, three weeks now. They finally decided to do something about.

" _Relax, Shell-head. Not all of us can fly_ ," Natasha grumbled as she jumped out of a small truck she floored the gas on to get to the core with the others.

She hopped out of the side and hurried over, "What's the drill?"

Tony pointed to the core that was about three feet out of the ground and pulsating dimly. " _This_ is the drill," Tony explained. "If Ultron gets a hand on the core, we _lose_."

"Not as fun as a video game," Tyron chuckled and Pietro shook his head with a smirk. Then, Ultron appeared, striding over in all his Tin Man glory. Behind him, was about twenty robots, all armed to the teeth.

"Is that the best you can do?" Thor tainted loudly with a wide smirk on his face.Â  Then, Tyron heard it.

At first, he thought it was a earthqauke, until he remembered they were completely detached from the ground. He realized what it had been when the first began to show up.

Hundreds, probably thousands of robots swarmed them like ants, either hanging from buildings or on all fours, climbing over vehicles. They were all collectively making their ways to the core.

Tyron realized that this might be a little harder than he thought.

"This is the best I can do," Ultron said, his voice seemed to echo from everywhere and it took Tyron a second to realize that his robots were relaying his words. Some were amplifying the underlying tones of his voice. This made him sound scary, made him seem powerful and impossible to defeat. "This is _exactly_ what I wanted. All of _you_ , against all of _me_. How could you possibly hope to stop me?"

"Well, like the old man said," Tony said, catching a sideways glance at Steve. " _Together_." Then, they attacked.

Tyron and the other Avengers seemed to work in sync, somehow telepathically relating messages to each other with brief eye contact and head signals. Tyron, for his part, was having practically the time of his life. His body absorbed bullets like of was nothing and although he knew he'd be sore later because of it, it didn't stop him. None of the others could be hit by a bullet this fast, this strong, and be safe. None except for him.

So, he carried on, using the metal he absorbed to destroy the robots judiciously. Snapping their necks, bringing a sharp blade that had a few wires entangled in it down through their bodies. He had so much extra metal that he used it to a decoy of himself. Connected by a small strand of metal. Both him and his decoy demolished as many robots as they could.

Soon, the thousands fell to hundreds and hundreds to tens. Then, it was just Ultron, a few dozen robot stragglers. At their feet, the dead carcasses of metal robot remains. Sharp wires and electric ends sticking out of the metal exoskeleton, as they quickly lost live due to lack or mobility. And there wasn't a single scratch on the core.

Ultron was battered, his metal body broken and a arm was unresponsive. He dragged his right leg, and looked a bit defeated. "You know," he said, "With the benefit of hindsight..." He never got to finish his statement. The Hulk smacked his body out of sight, it soared through the air before probably landing in a broken heap elsewhere, unusable.

The other robots ran, and quickly cleared the area. "They'll try to leave the city," Thor said aloud. Vision was on it immediately, and flew away.

"We can't let 'em, not even one," Tony said, then spoke into the comms. " _Rhodey_!"

" _I'm on it_ ," James replied.

"We gotta move out," Steve ordered. "Even I can tell the air is getting thin. You guys get to the boats, I'll sweep for stragglers, be right behind you."

"What about the core?" Clint asked, and this time, Wanda spoke up.

"I'll protect it," she announced firmly. "It's my job." Tyron smiled, she had grown, in the past few days. She came out of her hard shell, always attached to her brother, and grown into her own, independent person. Strangely, Tyron was proud of her and happy for her.

Everyone left, minus Pietro, Wanda, and himself. "Get the people on the boats," Wanda said, knowing he wouldn't go unless she told him.

"I'm not going to leave you here," Pietro said, concered.

"I'll stay, if ya want," Tyron suggested, but Wanda shook her head firmly, making her red hair curl around her face.

"I can handle this," she assured, destroying another robot. "Come back for me when everyone else is off, not before."

"Hmm..." Pietro nodded, as if taking her last statement into consideration, but Tyron knew he'd come anyway.

"You understand?" Wanda said, reassuring his words.

"You know, I _am_ twelve minutes older than you," he reminded her, and Wanda chuckled.

"Go," she said, smiling.

"Stay safe," Tyron reminded her, she looked at him, and nodded. The smile still on her lips, as she took his words with appreciation. Tyron smiled back, and then the two left.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Once again, Tyron was ushering people to shuttles. Steve insisted he'd stay on the ground despite the fact that he was more than willing to help fight with the others. However, after seeing the last few people who needed the shuttles, he conceded, and went to help.

Tyron finished ushering in the last person in the line. She was an elderly woman who had left her cane at her home with all the chaos and commotion. She smiled wearily at Tyron as he helped her to the seat.

"Is that the last person?" A SHIELD agent asked breathlessly, probably as exaushted as he was.

"I think, but give it five more minutes. I don' wanna accidentally miss someone," they nodded reluctantly, relaying the message to the others. This had been the last shuttle after all, and it was nearly empty. Tyron also knew it was too dangerous to breathe at this point. The air was so thin, it felt like wheezing when you had a sore throat.

" _Costel_?" A woman who was being escorted to one of the shuttles called out, and Tyron turned. "We were in the market. _Costel_?!" Tyron moved to get to the woman, but Clint got to the her first. He spotted the boy behind a railing, teary eyed and pale faced. The woman ran to help Clint carry the boy.

Tyron breathed a sigh of relief, they were nearly done. And when they got back to the Tower, he could rest with Pietro at his side. The thought filled him with warmth as he gave one last check for the area.

" _I got no strings, so I have fun_ ," Tyron heard the artifical voice immediately and froze. " _I'm not tied up to anyone_..."

A round of bullets aimed at Clint, the woman, and the boy, all faster than he could run, faster than he could block. Tyron opened his mouth to shout, his feet moving to head over to them, as a familiar blur did the same. A stray one caught his arm, shoulder, and back of his thigh. It burned, and he stumbled, nearly falling on his face.

The side of a car was in front of Clint and the small family, and beside them, was Pietro. Blood spilt down his lips, and his suit was littered with openings. All of them stained his perfect pale skin a sickly blossom of red. Of _blood_.

"You didn't see _that_ coming," he whispered to Clint, a pained smirk on his face then, his eyes rolled back and he collapsed.

Tyron didn't register himself screaming. He didn't realize he was on his knees, tears streaming down his face. He cradled his head in his arm, his entire body shaking. "Pietro, no, please, c'mon, Pietro," he stammered. Pietro eyes --- his brilliant blue eyes that made Tyron think that the entire world stopped turning and were so full of emotion and love and _life_ \--- had glazed over. Now lifeless, now dead, and staring at a blue sky aimlessly as blood continued to seep through his clothes.Â 

Someone gently took Tyron arms, and pried him away from the dead boy. They were whispering something, but Tyron didn't hear them. He didn't hear any of them. He wanted to hear Pietro again. He wanted to see him laugh, to see him cry, to see him alive again.

Tyron was brought into a empty shuttle, and he curled up on the seat. Someone's arms were wrapped around him, drawing him into their chest as he cried. This wasn't _fair_. If he had just been a little faster, a little stronger, this would never have happened.

"It's okay," Natasha whispered softly, "It's okay... It's been a long day..."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -  
> I hope you didn't see that coming, lol. I told you you'd like the outcome. I mean, did you really think I was going to keep Pietro? Sorry, but sadly, sacrifices must be made in order for my bby to bloom and grow happy.   
> With that being said, there's a lot more to come, two more arcs, actually --- why do we call them story arcs? My story isn't a arc, I think it's like a play. Imma call it an act.   
> With that being said, there's a lot more to come, two more acts, actually. I've labeled them in my outline as the Robot, the Riot, the War. Do what you want with that information.   
> I also know this chapter is short, only 1700 words, not counting A/N, sorry. I'll make it up you with the next few chapters.   
> One last thing, I should have a story coming out soon. It's called Fantastic Beasts and Where He Found Them. It's basically a story of headcanons for the Fantastic Beasts book. I'm literally just now getting into Harry Potter since I wasn't allowed to read/watch it when I was little, so I thought it'd be good.   
> OH! And my three year anniversary for Wattpad was on the 10th of September, whoo, thanks y'all for reading my stories (since I'm just a gay homeschooled dork).   
> Okay, thats it, sorry for the long note. I'll see y'all next time, and remember...   
> Don't melt~!   
> \- Happyritas 


	24. 24 - Be A Runaway

**Chapter Twenty-Four:**

The knock at his door was soft and gentle. Tyron nearly hadn't heard it. When it sounded again, he knew someone was there. "Come in," he muttered just loud enough for the person on the other side to hear.

The door opened and someone walked in, sitting on the corner of his bed. "... I know you're hurting, kid," Tony said, gently. "And I know you miss him, but, we gotta move on."

"' _We_ '?" Tyron rose an eyebrow, turning around to face him. "' _We_ ' don' gotta do nothin'. _Y'all_ didn't know him."

"You're right," Tony conceded, "We _didn't_ know him as well as you did. We didn't love him like you did. But, do you really think he would want you holed up in here for days?" Tyron didn't answer, he shifted back around so he faced the wall.

"Tyron, you need to move on. It's been nearly a _week_. You haven't been to school in almost three weeks---"

"Fuck school," Tyron grumbled.

"Everybody says it, but you still have to go. You still have to move on," Tony said, then he patted his leg. "C'mon. Get up. Let's go out."

"Where?" Tyron asked, not moving.

"Out. Somewhere. _Anywhere_. This place is getting a bit too depressing for me and _you_ aren't helping. Besides, I'm sure you haven't eaten at all --- and neither have I --- and right now, I could eat a horse."

"M'not hungry," Tyron grumbled, but Tony wasn't having it. He grabbed his arm, and pulled him up. Annoyed, Tyron yanked himself away, and got up on his own.

As soon as he stood, his vision blurred. A second later, he fell forward, stumbling, until he finally held onto a desk beside his bed.

Tyron had to breathe for a few moments and Tony stared at him. "What was that?" Tony demanded, shocked.

"It... Nothin'. S'nothin'," Tyron said, unconvincingly. He grabbed the leg of his desk, and slowly absorbed a some of the metal. A minute later, Tyron stood, rubbing his temples.

"Yeah, so you definitely need something in you..." Tony said, taking his arm and dragging him out of his room. "First, food, then, shower. You smell like you just rolled in garbage."

Tyron rolled his eyes as they entered the elevator and Tony pushed a button. "Where's everyone?" Tyron asked.

"Uh, Vis and Wanda are at a different base... Nat went back to Clint his farm for a few weeks. Steve is out, I think with Wanda, or just meeting up with some people."

"What about Bruce?" Tyron asked, and Tony went still.

"He's... Still missing," Tony said softly, obviously still hurt by his recent disappearance. Tyron nodded, looking at the ground. He didn't expect that reaction.

The rest of the walk to Tony's workshop was in silence, but as soon as they entered and Tyron saw all the metal and spare bits lying around, he couldn't help his stomach growling and the saliva that gathered in his mouth.

"Have at it. I'm gonna order some food, so eat as much as you want," Tony said, pulling out his phone. "It's mainly scraps, so it's free range."

Tyron hesistated and Tony noticed, "C'mon, I'm not going to spoonfeed you." Tyron rolled his eyes, stepping forward and picking up a small bolt. He tossed it in his mouth and chewed. Tyron sighed, and began eating more. Soon, he was shoving whole handfuls of bolts and screws in his mouth, savouring each and every taste.

Tony glanced at him, and smirked. "See. I knew you were hungry."

"Shut up," Tyron muttered, and Tony laughed.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Twenty minutes later, Tyron and Tony were both sitting, munching on their food in silence. Tony, who had been eating Chinese food with chopsticks expertly, turned to Tyron. "You never told me why you said that." Tyron looked up, and then swallowed.

"Said wha'?"

"That night you told me about your brother. You never told me why you said ' _when he makes me kill kids_ ', or something like that. What was that about anyway?" Tyron winced and Tony rose an eyebrow.

"'S... S'a long story..."

"We're not doing anything."

Tyron sighed, running a hand down his face. "M'kay... Well... When I first started working for Baron, I was... 'Round thirteen or fourteen, I think. M'dad kicked m'outta the house an' I was on the streets for a while."

" _Wait_. Your dad kicked you out of the house when you were _thirteen_?" Tony looked shocked and Tyron nodded.

"Yep. But, that's a different story. Anyways, I was on the streets for 'bout six months. I was also new to m'mutation too, so I didn't understand wha' was _wrong_ with m'an' why I couldn't _eat_. I use to go through dumpsters shoving as much food as I could find in m'mouth, then throw it all back up seconds later. It was pretty bad..." Tyron chuckled, rubbing his head, reminding himself that he needed to cut his hair soon. "Then, when I rained, I'd be as sick as a dog, shivering cold an' barely understandin' up from down, but I didn't die."

Tyron sat straighter as he continued. "Sometimes, I'd sleep in the construction sites 'round the City. I'd get chased out, obviously, but it was nice to have... _Somewhat_ of a roof over m'head." He chuckled, but his eyes darkened, remembering the story. "One day it was raining hard, an' I was tired. That was when I came across the 'Yard. At first, Willy wouldn't let me in. Then, I paid him, it was twenty bucks and eighteen cents. He laughed at my face, but took m'money. He told m'that if I didn't bring the other twenty tomorrow, he'd find m'an' skin m'alive. Then, Baron came."

Tyron inhaled as he continued, "Baron was on the other side of the fence an' told m'to come over, an' asked wha' the hell was wrong with me. I told him I didn't _know_ , that it was the rain that was making me sick. He asked m'if I were a mutant. I knew I was because... Well, before I left, my dad tried to stab m'wit' a kitchen knife, but ya can guess how tha' turned out."

Tony's eyes were saucers at the last statement. "Your dad tried to _kill_ you!?"

"Yeah. But, like I said, didn't work," Tyron shrugged. "Back to m'story. I told him yeah, I was, an't he let m'in. Let m'sleep inside for the night, let m'heal for the next day until I was better. Then, he told m'to show him that I was a mutant. I didn't have much control over m'power at tha' time, so I could only absorb metal. I couldn't concentrate it or shift it yet. Baron liked this. He trained me, taught m'how to fight, taught m'more about m'powers. I remembered tha' I was scared tha' he was going to kill me, that's what I always saw on TV, anyways, but... He didn't. I was naÃ¯ve enough to think of him like a father. Then, he sent m'on a mission. One of his people was gonna to rat on him. He wanted him dead. His entire family." Tony drew in a breath, and Tyron sighed.

"Honestly, I was confused at first. I didn't _know_ he was going to have m'killing people, but he was serious, an't I was stuck. The... The whole way there, I told myself I was goin' to be okay. It was fine. I would just scare the guy and tell him to get out of there." Tyron shook his head, a dry chuckle seeping past his lips. "When I got there, ya know what I found. M'target, the man, passed out drunk, an' in the other room was a kid, black an' blue. The kid saw m'come in an' was terrified. He... He was so _hurt_ , I've never seen tha' kind of pain before, at least not on a kid, on a seven-year old."

Tyron took a moment before finishing. "I don't remember much after tha'. I remember imaginin' _me_ , when I was the kid's age. I got so _angry_. I killed him. I was ruthless, just again an' again an' again. He woke up while I was stabbin' him, an' tried to scream. I don't remember if he managed it or not, but, I remember him fallin' on the couch sideways. I still hadn't stopped stabbin' him. There was blood _everywhere_ , on the couch, the ceiling, the floor, _me_. It was everywhere, but I didn't care. I kept going for about five minutes after he finished."

"I looked for the kid, I wanted to take him away, I--I wanted to help, but... He was dead. A bullet to the skull." Tyron's eyes were closed as he said, "One of Baron's henchmen followed me an' finished the other half of tha' job. I didn't know. Later, Baron put m'on other eliminations or scare tactics, an' I did them. Sometimes, we'd have gang fights an' I would be in the front lines. I was always the loyal dog, until I pulled on his leash..."

Tyron looked up, noticing Tony staring at him. For a moment, he couldn't tell if it was shock or horror. Or, both. He cleared his throat, "So... Yeah. That's me. Anythin' else you wanna know?"

Tony was silent, then he turned back to his food, "Nope. That's all of my questions for today. Is there anything you want to know about me?" Tyron rose an eyebrow, he didn't know this was an option.

"Uh..." He popped a few more bolts in his mouth. "What was ya old man like?"

"Oh," Tony groaned. "My dad? An absolute pain in my _ass_ , not to mention a complete bastard as well. He's the one that started _Stark Industries_ , you know."

"Ah," Tyron nodded, "So, ya were a rebellious teeenager, gotcha."

Tony scoffed and flicked a piece of rice at Tyron, and he laughed. "Were ya an only child?" Tyron asked curiously, and Tony nodded.

"Yep. After me, they decided they were quite done with kids. I might have ruined the experience for them." Tyron laughed, shaking his head.

"What was your mother like?" Tony asked, and Tyron smiled.

"My ma was _beautiful_ ," he said, looking at the ground. "She was hella smart, an' worked in New York City. She, uh, was really religious an' traditional too, ya know? This goes here, this has to be done like that. But, I still loved her, though... Even after everythin'..."

"You're... Speaking in past tense," Tony said, raising an eyebrow. Tyron nodded, clearing his throat.

"Yeah, uh, she... She died in the Battle of New York. Went in one mornin' an' never came home." Tyron swallowed and Tony sighed.

"I'm sorry," he told him, but Tyron shook his head.

"It--It doesn't matter now. Nothin' I can do 'bout it. What 'bout ya mom?" He asked.

"My mom? She was amazing," Tony smiled. "Maria Stark. The most talented woman that I knew. She played six different instruments. _Six_. But, her favourite was the piano. She used to play all the time. She tried to teach me, but," Tony shook his head, and scoffed. "I never listened. I was too caught up in my own bullshit with my dad or friends or..." Tony chuckled. "I miss my mom. A lot. She... She was always so supportive of me and what I did. She was someone I could talk to. I loved her."

Tyron was nodding, and Tony smiled, "They both died in a car accident when I was a teenager. I never got to say goodbye."

"That's how it usually works," Tyron said. "We never get the chance." Tyron sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. "I thought we were tryin' to get away from all the depression." They both laughed and went back to eating.

After they finished, Tony stood, "C'mon. Lets go do something else."

"Like wha'?"

"What about that basketball court you took Steve?" Tony asked, and Tyron laughed.

" _You_ wanna play ball?" He asked incredulously.

"Hey! I had my fair share of sports when I was your age," he huffed, crossing his arms. "Besides, basketball can't possibly be that hard."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Watching Tony running around the court trying to get the ball from teenagers was priceless. Tyron wished he could have recorded it.

"I'm open!" A girl said from the side of the court, and someone threw the ball to her. She dribbled down the court to her team's basket and shot, making it in perfectly at a three-pointer.

"Timeout!" Tony called, and all of the kids laughed and nodded. Tony moved to the side and sat down. Sweat dripped down his neck and his entire shirt collar was drenched.

"How ya holdin' up?" Tyron asked, jogging to him, but Tony just laughed.

"Basketball was _never_ this hard when I was a kid," Tony said, huffing.

"Ya probably played wit' white people," Tyron shrugged. "Ya never played actual B-Ball before. C'mon, ya got ten seconds left." Tyron held out his hand, and Tony took it.

"I didn't know there was a difference," Tony said and Tyron laughed.

" _Course_ there's a difference. Ya feelin' the difference now. S'harder, more intense." Tyron patted Tony on the back before heading over to his team to resume the game.

They were only able to play about two more games before the street lights clicked on. The kids began to wrap up and head home. Tony sat back down in the side, looking over the street, and Tyron moved to sit next go him.

"What's up?" Tyron asked curiously.

"Nothing... I'm just thinking..." He murmured. "Are you from here? This area?"

"Hm? No, m'from Jersey," Tyron replied. "These houses are much nicer than the projects where I grew up."

" _Projects_? Like, housing projects?" Tyron nodded.

"Only thin' my parents could afford, ya know?" He shrugged. "We lived in a pretty bad neighborhood, too. Like, drugs, gang fights, rapists, it was madness."

"Geez," Tony murmured, shocked, but Tyron shrugged it off.

"That was life for me," Tyron said as he watched a black van slow down near the court. "I mean, most projects are like that anyway. Mine was no different." He turned his head, to glance at the license plate. Then, he paled. "Shit."

"What?" Tony said, frowning.

"Shit. We gotta go," he stood, grabbing Tony hand and ran. He ran out of the court and down to the street. Tony left the car at a parking garage a streets away.

"What's going on?" Tony demanded, trying to pull away, but Tyron's grabbed unto a metal fence, absorbing part of it and using it to secure Tony's wrist to his. Tyron led the way as he shoved past a few people and turned down the street.

Tyron opened the doors into a small corner store and nodded at the cashier and a man standing near the side silently, watching them. "We can't come to this area anymore," Tyron murmured as he pretended to check the store's array of chips. He let go of Tony, and flexed his fingers while Tony rubbed his wrist.

"Why not?" Tony hissed. "What's going on?"

"M'a dumbass. I forgot 'bout... _Shit_ ," Tyron rubbed his face trying to focus. "Look, I thought Queens would be far enough away from Brooklyn since Baron has no territory over here, an' him an' Zion are always buttin' heads. Someone must've told Zion somethin', an' if he knows I've been in his territory, he'll probably think Baron's try'na invade. That'll probably cause a gang war, which is the last thin' we need, 'specially after what happened with Lars---"

"Wait, wait, slow down," Tony said, his brow furrowed. " _Gang war_? Who's _Zion_? And what are you talking about with territories? This is _New York_ , not the _middle ages_."

Tyron gave Tony a slightly annoyed look, then grabbed a bag of Cheetos, and went to the counter. He pulled out a wallet that Tony didn't know Tyron even owned, and took out a ten-dollar bill, handing it to the cashier. "Do ya got a map of the City?" The cashier nodded, and pointed to the side.

Tyron scanned the array of maps for a moment before picking one and a fifty-cent marker off the counter. The cashier rang everything up and put it in a bag, then handed it and the change to Tyron. He took the bag, but left the change on the counter and turned to leave.

"Why did you---?"

" _Shh_!" Tyron hissed, quickly walking out of the store. He didn't talk for a few minutes, checking behind him, and then sighed. "Okay, now go."

"Why'd you buy Cheetos? You don't _eat_ ," Tony frowned.

"The man in the corner was a cop," Tyron explained easily. "If I didn't buy Cheetos, he probably would have thought I was stealin'."

"Okay, where did you get the wallet from?" Tony asked, and Tyron rolled his eyes.

"One of the guys that bumped into us. I knew you didn't have cash an' I don't carry money, so we needed a reason to be in the store."

"You _stole_ it!?"

" _Shush_!" Tyron hissed, glancing around, but nobody turned their way. "Ya really tryin' to be shot, aren't ya?" Tyron hissed, then sighed, and nodded up ahead where the parking garage was. "There's the car. Is that other guy still in it?"

"Happy? Yeah. He wouldn't have left," Tony said.

"Then, no more questions 'til we get there. This is a lot to explain, 'specially to someone like ya."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tony's eyes narrowed, offended.

"Jus' wait, then I'll explain."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron sat back as soon as they got in the black SUV. Tony was beside him, waiting for him to speak. He was silent nearly twenty minutes after they took off, sighing and rubbing his face.

Finally, he spoke, "This s'helluva long story, so no questions 'til I finish, a'ight?" Tony nodded and even Happy in the driver's seat grunted.

"A'ight," Tyron pulled out the map of the major cities in New York. "This is the City, Brooklyn, Queens, an' Harlem." He began go make hurried lines that looked almost like irregular rectangles in each city. Then, he pointed to Brooklyn. "This is Baron's territory. He mainly focuses on recruitin' mutants an' minor, petty crimes. He's had a twenty year sentence in an instate prison, only served ten, an' now owns a third of the _entirety_ of Brooklyn." He scraggily wrote Baron on the area he showed.

Tyron moved his marked to another area, in Queens, it was a slightly smaller one than the one in Brooklyn. "This is Zion's territory. He's specializes in terrorizing mutants an' murder, although he does have a few petty thefts in his name. He served nineteen in jail, the same one Baron did, at the same time. There's a theory tha' the two are related, but I personally don't think so."

He pointed to Harlem, "Harlem in a _mess_. There's really no one significant person running the place, but I heard that there might be someone up-incomin', but nothin's sure."

Finally, he pointed to New York City. "The City is no man's land because there's too many cops there. Nobody's enough of a dumbass to try to make territory there."

"What did you mean by the Lars incident?" Tony asked, and Tyron went back to his map.

"So, when Lars got shot an' beat, he was on this street," Tyron highlighted a street that was right in-between the edge of Zion's and Baron's territory. "Both of them wanna do something, but it has to be in _tha' person's_ territory."

"Wait, I thought Zion didn't _like_ mutants," Tony interuppted and Tyron frowned.

"Yeah, but he doesn't want _Baron_ to have credit for it. Everyone thinks tha' it Zion leads a riot, it'll only last, maybe an hour, an' none of the mutants want tha', we want _change_ , an' Baron'll bring it."

"Then, why won't Baron just lead it anyway?"

"It'll make Zion look weak, if people think he can't start a riot, which'll cause them to go to war. And, if they go to war, Baron'll lose."

"Why?"

"Because of _me_ ," Tyron glared, "Stop asking questions." Tyron inhaled, and closed his eyes. "Before I joined him, Baron lost nearly _every_ gang war he participated in. Then, I joined _Baron's Pit,_ an' he started winnin' again, which was one of the many reasons why he cares so much tha' I come back. I was his trumpcard _an'_ his cash cow."

"' _His cash cow_ '?" Tony asked, but Tyron shook his head.

"Not important. When we were in that park, the liscense plate had the state blotted out, somethin' only _Zion's_ people do. If someone snitched an' recognized me," Tyron groaned, rubbing his temple. "I was hopin' to get _outta_ this mess." Tyron glanced out the back window, and sighed.

"Yeah. I don't blame you," Tony muttered. "Look, we can go back to the Tower. You got school tomorrow, anyway. I'll get on the phone with the police an'---"

"The _what_!?" Tyron nearly choked. "Oh no. _Hell_ no. We ain't bringin' the police in this," Tyron shook his head. "Nuh-huh. _Definitely not_."

"Tyron, you're talking about a potential _riot_ breaking out. People could be _killed_ \---"

"More people will be killed if ya drag the police in this," Tyron growled. "We're not havin' that." He looked out the back window, and frowned, but turned back to Tony.

"You have no say," Tony scoffed, and Tyron raised and eyebrow, challenging him.

" _No_. 'Specially not after wha' they did to Lars. Ain't no cards, no ' _pology_. Since he was a mutant, _nobody cares!"_ Tyron snapped, raising his voice, but inhaled to bring himself to a much calmer level. " _Look_. I know ya wanna help, but gettin' the police involved, gettin' ' _Iron Man_ ' involved will jus' make matters _worse_ , an' shit's already tense now."

"Which is why we _need_ police involvement," Tony narrowed his eyes. Tyron's eyes darted to the back twice before focusing on Tony. "If we can stop the riot before it happens---"

"That's not the _point_ , Tony," Tyron sighed, looking out as they stopped in bumper to bumper traffic over the Brooklyn Bridge. "The riot is jus' to bring awareness to help change. This discrimination has been goin' on for centuries an' _nothin's_ been done to stop it. _We_ are change. _Mutants_ , and if maybe Baron leads it... If we can fight hard enough, people will know that we matter too."

"Tyron, people will be hurt."

" _Normal people_ , or _mutants_?" Tyron glared, anger filling him. "Because mutants have been killed _forever_ an' nobody seemed to care about them but _us_. So, why should we care about normal people? People who want to hurt, enslave, an' kill us?" Tony stared at Tyron in shock, an' Tyron had been too, by words he kept pent up inside but never had the courage to release.

" _I_ don't want to hurt you," Tony said. "I know you're upset, but this is getting serious, Tyron. We need to---"

"This is _ridiculous_!" Tyron scoffed. "Are you even _listenin_ ' to me!? We are _dyin_ '! An' when we finally want to stand up for ourselves, for people like us who has _died_ , people like _you_ push us back down!" Tyron huffed angrily, checking behind him again. Then, he stopped, his eyes widening.

"What is it?" Tony demanded, "You keep looking back there." He then too, but saw nothing. Just cars bumper to bumper to other people and the sound of horns being abused.

"I..." Tyron clenched his jaw, and looked around. He stared at the bridge for a long second, then back at Tony. "I... _Shit_ ," he rubbed his forehead. "God, m'gonna regret this."

"Regret _what?_ What's---?" Tyron hit Tony on the head, his fist metal and Tony slumped against the seat, seeing stars.

"Hey! What the hell is wrong with you!?" Happy snapped from the front seat, but due to the traffic, and the narrow spacing, he was unable to pull over.

Tyron turned to the handle, and undid the lock. Tony grabbed Tyron's arm, trying to stop him. " _M'sorry_ ," he muttered, then yanked his arm away and opened the door. Tony weakly sat up, his head throbbing. Happy fumbled with his seatbelt and opened his car door. Two men jumped out of a car as Tyron made a beeline for the bridge's edge. One of then grabbed unto his arm just as he grabbed the side rail. It was a bad idea. Spikes jutted out, impaling the man's hand and he cried out, in pain.

Tony tried to come out of the car as Tyron climbed over the rail. It quickly became easy to deduce what he was planning. "Wait, Tyron, _no_!" Tony shouted, trying to open the door. The other man pulled out a gun and Tyron, and two shots were fired. This gave Tyron the push he needed. He jumped and a second later, another shot went out and he was gone.


	25. 25 - Be A Memory

**Chapter Twenty-Five:**

"Shit. Shit. Shitty shit," Tyron swore, holding onto the metal underside of the Brooklyn bridge for dear life. "Shit. Shit. Shit!!"

He could still hear Tony shouting for him above. And Zion's men would notice if they didn't hear a splash. Tyron bit his lip, and looked down into the murky grey water. "Ugh..." He grumbled, then let go.

His arms flailed for several second before finally hitting the water. He held his breath, trying to get back to the surface. After trying desperately to get back to the surface, he finally made it, and gasped. He kicked his legs, trying to stay afloat, but he was dragged back under again.

He had to get to the bank, Tyron thought. The water made his mind get foggy. He hadn't been in a big body of water since his mutation. He didn't think he would feel rusty like he did in the rain, but the effects seemed much faster in the ocean.

Tyron moved, swimming --- even though he couldn't swim --- desperately, his head falling under several times, making him spit up water, and cough roughly.

It had taken him nearly twenty minutes, but Tyron finally made it. He coughed and hacked once he got to the bank, breathing in oxygen like it had been the last of it on earth.

Tyron fished in his pocket, pulling out a cellphone that was definitely not turning on again. Tyron sighed, leaning his head against the ground. "Guess... M'walkin' then..." He murmured, moving to stand.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron was still very damp when he entered the doors of Stark Tower. He was tired, and wanted to sleep. A part of him definitely wanted to crash on a bench for the night, but he decided against it at the last minute.

The lobby, that was usually busy with people, was primarily empty. A few men and woman were the main desks, but it had look like everyone had pretty much gone home for the night.

"Excuse me," a man said, holding onto Tyron's shoulder. He stopped, stiffening. "Is there a reason why you're in here?"

"I... Need to talk to Tony," Tyron said, pushing the man's large hand off his shoulder. Last time he was stopped in the lobby of the Tower by a security guard, he was beat up. He didn't have the energy for that again.

"And why---?"

"Let him go," A voice said from across he room. Tony was striding towards him. The man sputtered, trying to find an excuse, but Tony simply took Tyron's arm and dragged him away. "What were you thinking!?" He hissed, "Are you crazy!? Why would you jump off the bridge like that? I thought you were dead! Goddamn it, Tyron---"

"Did those men leave ya alone?" Tyron asked.

"Yes, but---"

"Don't worry 'bout it then," Tyron said, sighing. They walked into the elevator, and Tyron let something scan his face before it began to zoom upwards.

"Don't worry about it!? Tyron, you could have died!"

"But I didn't. And Zion's men ain't after you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Jus'... Don't worry 'bout it," Tyron said, his entire body aching. "I need to sleep."

Tony sighed and they were quiet for a minute. Before he said, "You know, you still have school in the morning." Tyron groaned.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"Dude!" Ned said, rounding on him when he was at his locker. "Where have you been!?"

"I---" Tyron began to say, but Ned cut him off.

"You missed everything! Oh, my god! That big Avengers fight in Slovakia was sick man, and that huge robot that kept shooting people! And the city was flying!! Dude, what have you been doing!? And, you missed a bunch'a classes! You're going to be drowning in work, man!"

"Yeah... I know," Tyron said, almost hesitantly. He didn't know if Ned had finished talking yet. "Where's Peter?"

"He's been out sick for the past couple days. I talked to him last night, though, and he said that he'd be in today. He's usually never late, so---Oh! There he is!" Ned turned down the hall, grinning as Peter sluggishly came through.

"What the _fuck_?" Tyron said, worrying. "You look like ass, man."

"I know," Peter sniffed. There were dark bags under his eyes and his face was redder than usual. His clothes were a bit bigger on his already scrawny body. Tyron pressed his lips together in worry.

"Have ya seen, like, a doctor yet, man?" Tyron frowned.

"Nah. May says it's just a cold, I'll be alright," Peter sniffed and then went to his locker.

"Oh, look!" Someone said from across the room, then began their way over. "It's Cookie Boy."

"What do ya want, Michelle?" Tyron growled, still upset with this girl.

"What I can't say hi to my favourite delinquent?" She teased, and Tyron pushed her away.

"No, but ya really might wanna finish what ya saying before ya don't have any teeth to do it," Tyron threatened.

Michelle laughed, but it was a bit nervous, and she wasn't quite smiling. "That's cold, Tyron. I'll catch up with you later. Maybe you can tell me all about Slovakia." Tyron's eyes went wide as Michelle turned and left.

"What was what about?" Ned asked, frowning. "What about Slovakia? Were you there?"

"No," he denied immediately. "I was at home. Watched it on TV, like everyone else."

Ned made kind of a noise of agreement, and then the bell rang. So, they caught up with Peter and made their way to class.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

"Quiet down," Their science teacher, Mrs. Glades commanded. "I know there's a lot to discuss from the past few weeks from the news, however, we must still continue class. So, hush and everyone turn to page 112 in your textbooks." 

Everyone grumbled, but began to get their books out. "So, where were you?" Peter whispered as they got their books out.

"Sick," Tyron replied. "Pretty bad. Don't worry. What 'bout ya? Ya look horrible."

"We had a field trip last week," Peter explained. "To Oscorp Industries for a tour. I must have touched something or whatever because I got super sick the next day. But, I'm getting a bit better now."

"Damn," Tyron shook his head.

"What do you think of all the stuff happening in Slovakia?" Ned asked and Tyron shrugged.

"I dunno. The 'Vengers will deal wit' it. They always do," Tyron shrugged.

"I heard one of them died out there," Ned continued. "Got blown up by a robot. It must've crazy, blood everywhere. Tyron, who do you think was it? There was a new girl now, Scarlet Witch, apparently. Do you think she killed him?"

"No, she didn't!" Tyron snapped, making both of them look at him, confused. "I mean, ah, she couldn't have because I heard they were siblin's."

"Ooo! That makes sense," Ned nodded.

"I hope you boys are having a lot of fun discussing Galvanic cells," Mrs. Glades scolded, and the entire class sniggered.

"Sorry," the murmured in unison, listening quietly to the lesson.

Ten minutes later, he whispered again. "There was another new guy too. One made of metal. He looked hella cool!"

"Yeah?" Tyron rose an eyebrow, smirking.

"He wasn't that cool," Peter shrugged. "I heard he was a mutant."

"Wha's wrong wit' that?"

"Dude," Ned furrowed his eyebrows. "Mutants are everywhere. I mean, yeah, some are good, but have you seen some of them? Besides, I did some research. Remember that mutant from, what, a year or two ago? The one that killed all those people and was associated with that gang in Brooklyn? This guy has the same abilites as him. That's a bit sketchy to me. I mean, what if he's the one that killed that guy who died?"

Tyron closed his eyes, hia jaw clenched. They didn't know, he told himself. They didn't know, they didn't _know_.

"Tyron?" Peter rose an eyebrow. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, no, uhm," Tyron swallowed. "I... I just," Tyron turned to the teacher. "I gotta go. I just..." Tyron stood and began to walk away.

"Tyron? Where do you think you're---?" Tyron didn't answer, as he walked out of the classroom and closed the door.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron closed his eyes, leaning against the back school wall. Tears threatened his eyes, but he closed them, refusing to let them go.

Pietro's voice came to his head, " _You are being silly over me,_ " he would've said. " _Do not cry, it is not a good look on such a handsome face."_

"You alright?" A voice said, stepping forward from around the corner. It was Michelle.

Tyron's eyes narrowed, and he sniffed, trying to wipe at his eyes. "Wha' do ya want, Michelle?"

"A girl can't talk?" Michelle said, smirking, but Tyron was not laughing. She continued, "Why'd you walk out of class like that?"

"None of ya business," Tyron hissed.

"Fiesty," Michelle chuckled. "Something happen in Slovakia? That guy that died?"

"I don't know wha' ya talkin' about," Tyron grumbled.

"Don't be stupid. I saw you. You were the same as before. Same murderer, different friends." Tyron went stiff, looking at the sky. It as grey and cloudy. It might rain, soon.

"Which one were you?" Tyron whispered.

"You killed my best friend," Michelle accused. "You killed her entire family. I..  I didn't even..." Michelle inhaled. "I was staying at her house, for a sleepover. When I... I heard someone come in the house, we moved to hide. I was in the closet and she went under the bed. They dragged her out from underneath the bed and then you... You _killed_ her!"

Tyron sighed, he remembered that. Baron lined them all up, and Tyron was supposed to kill them. He didn't have any other choice. He _didn't_.

"I'm sorry---"

"Sorry doesn't bring her back!" Michelle snapped. "You killed her, then you came here, acting like you had the right to be human. You're a mutant, an abomination! You're a murderer!"

"I'm sorry," Tyron snapped. "I'm sorry about your friends, but I didn't have any choice! I---"

"Stop fucking lying!!" Michelle reached in her side, pulling out a knife. Tyron looked at it and his eyes widened. It was extremely sharp and made of glass.

"Put tha' away," Tyron warned. "Ya don't know wha' ya doin'."

"I know exactly what I'm doing. That guy wanted you dead or alive. And I'd rather see you dead." Michelle lunged, and Tyron sidestepped, his hand moving to push her knife hand away. She twirled it in her hand, slashing his finger and wrist. Blood began to pool out of it. It was a silvery colour, one Tyron actually hadn't seen in a long time.

"Michelle, please, listen to me," Tyron tried to reason, struggling with her to get the knife out of her hand.

"Listen to what!?" She hissed hysterically. "You killed so many people and you got to join the fucking Avengers for it!? My friend lost her entire family because of you! I had to watch them all be killed!!" She stamped on his foot, and his hissed. Michelle tried to stab his torso with it, but he turned his body away, and she only manage to slice his skin open.

Tyron stumbled away, clutching his stomach, his discoloured blood staining his shirt. "Ah!" Tyron groaned, wincing.

"You think that's it?" Michelle hissed. Grabbing his arm, placing the knife at his wrist. Tyron tried to pull away, but that only caused the knife to dig in deeper. "If you stay here, I'm going to make your life a living hell. You leave, and I'll tell Zion that you're staying with the Avengers."

"What do ya want m'to do?" Tyron demanded.

"I want you to tell me her name," Michelle growled. "I'll give you until Friday. If you don't have her name by the end of the week, I'm going to tell everyone about you. They wouldn't want a murderer in our schools, much less a disgusting mutant."

Tyron stared at her in shock, "I can't---"

"Figure it out," she hissed, pulling away from him. Tyron stared at her, rubbing his wrist where she had cut it. Michelle looked at him for a long minute. "I don't understand how anyone could think you could be a good person."

"Ya don't _understand_ ," Tyron sighed.

"I understand plenty," Michelle snarled. "Murderers can't be human. And mutants never were." Then, she turned and left the way she came.

Tyron didn't try to go after her, but he certainly wanted to. He wanted to explain how he had no choice in killing those people. He wanted to tell her that Baron was always breathing down his neck, always keeping him on a tight leash, and it he even thought about disobeying him, the consequences were disastrous.

Tyron breathed, running a hand down his face. He needed to go to get cleaned up. So, he turned, and walked out of the school.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron rinsed his face in a local coffee shop. He had taken a few packs of ace bandages and a bottle of alcohol to wrap up his stomach. Tyron poured the alcohol on his wrist and hissed. He usually didn't have to clean his own wounds from fights, so this was a bit new. He opened the ace bandages and wrapped his wrist up. Then, he began taking off his sweater and shirt, to clean the one across his stomach.

As he was cleaning, he noticed that his chest bindings were getting dirty and worn. Tyron sighed, undoing those too, and using the new bandages to redo it.

Tyron watched himself in the mirror, brow furrowed. He remembered the first time he decided that he wasn't going to be a girl anymore. He had cut off all his hair that night. When he woke up and showed his mom and dad the next morning, they were so upset.

Tyron closed his eyes, trying to stop himself from drudging up sour memories. What he needed to do, was clean himself up and get as far away as possible. If Michelle let loose that he was living with the Avengers, then Tony could be completely ruined. Not to mention, if _Baron_ knew he was with the Avengers, he'd have him killed.

Tyron sighed, breathing for a moment. He needed to calm down. Just... Calm down. He couldn't go back to Tony and he definitely needed a place to crash for the night.

Tyron's phone buzzed and he jumped, it surprising him. He usually didn't use his phone unless he needed it. Peter was calling him, so he answered. "Hello?"

" _Tyron_?" Peter's voice filtered through the phone. " _Are you alright? You never came back to class_."

"M'fine. Jus' didn't feel well. I went outside to, uhm, breathe. I decided to skip for the day." Tyron ran a hand through his hair, trying to think.

" _Are you sure you're feeling alright? I mean, if you've been this sick, maybe you need to go to a hospital, or something_..."

"Oh, nah, it's cool. Don't worry about it. Jus' a stomach ache," Tyron said quickly, the paused. "Hey... Do ya mind if I crash at ya place for the night?"

" _Huh? Why? Is everything alright_?"

"Yeah, no, everythin's fine. My parents have been fightin' an'... I jus' can't stand another minute of it, ya know?" Tyron lied easily. "Jus' for tonight, an' I jus' need, like a couch. It's alright if ya can't, so---"

" _No, that's--that's fine. That's perfectly fine. Let me just call my Aunt and get stuff sorted_."

"Thanks a lot, man," Tyron sighed. "I owe ya one." He really did too. But, since Peter lived in the Queens area --- the apartment complexes --- Zion would be more unlikely to look for him there. Especially without hint or reason to. He's probably expect him in the projects, not in the richer area where he definitely couldn't afford.

" _Don't worry about it. I'll text you my address, I just gotta get my last class for today and then we can both head over, alright_?"

"Got it. I'll meet you at the school." Then, Tyron hung up.

He quickly gathered his stuff and headed back for the school. He had a week to set things right with Michelle. If he didn't, a civil war could start, and it'd be _his_ fault.


	26. 26 - Be A Nerd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early update, happy holidays!

**Chapter Twenty-Six:**

"Hey, thanks for lettin' m'stay over, man," Tyron told him as they headed to Peter's house.

"It was no problem, really, besides, Ned and I had some stuff we wanted to finish anyway," Peter shrugged and Ned grinned.

"Yeah! I got this new Lego set --- we're recreating the _Millennium Falcon_!"

Tyron rose an eyebrow, "That's cool! I never really got much into Star Wars myself, but m'bro loved it. How big is it?"

"About this big," Ned said, bringing his hands apart to show it's size. "It's supposed to take about three hours to make, but," he chuckled. "That's the _amateur_ timing, ours will probably be half that, maybe less."

Tyron smiled, and Peter pointed to an apartment. "That's it."

"So, s'jus' ya an' ya aunt?" Tyron asked, curiously.

"Yeah, my parents, uh, died in a car accident a few years ago. I've been living with my aunt and uncle for a while, but, he died last year." Tyron frowned, speechless. He didn't know that so much death followed Peter, a boy he hardly knew. Tyron also knew it was a touchy subject as well, he seemed very closed on the subject and would probably rather not discuss it any more.

"M'sorry, man," Tyron muttered as Peter went to his apartment door, pulling out a key.

"Don't worry. It's in the past," Peter said, shrugging it off. He opened the door, allowing the two other boys inside. Ned went in first, Tyron behind him. "Fourth story, third door on the left," Peter instructed as they began up the steps.

Tyron felt his stomach growl as they went up the metal steps. He had tried to sneak a few more strips of metal he found beside the street, but couldn't eat much without people seeing him. So now, he was hungry in the prescense of humans, who would probably freak out if he stuck a soda can in his mouth.

The finally made it up the last flight, and Peter moved to unlock the door. "You can take your shoes off, if you want," he suggested, and Tyron did, and left his shoes nearly at the door.

The apartment was small, but not any bigger for more than two people. There was a kitchenette in a side room behind the door, which opened up to a living room. Beside that was a short closed off hallway, that probably led to bedrooms and whatnot. A slightly opened door beside the living room that showed a bit of a sink gave Tyron the impression of a small bathroom, and beside that, a closed closet --- probably holding winter coats.

The apartment had been a bit messy at first glance. Not too messy that Tyron had to watch where he stepped, but at the same time, not exactly giving the impression that they favoured tidiness.

Tyron smiled, it was homely, which was certainly unlike his house in Jersey --- run down, mouldy projects, and his neighbors mainly consisting of crack heads and meth labs.

"It's nice," Tyron commented.

"Ah, thanks," Peter said, finaly managing to take off his other shoe. "Through here," he said, waving them down the hallway. Tyron and Ned followed, and Ned began to chat as they walked.

"Have you seen the movie poster for the new Star Wars remake?! It's supposed to be coming out next year, or the year after! It looked so good, and everyone's different! I heard that they might bring Luke back in the new one, but I don't believe it. I mean, it's been so long, he couldn't even be _alive_ , ya know?"

"I saw that!" Peter said, opening his bedroom door. Tyron gaped, it was a mess. A proper, boy's room mess. There were books and gadgets spread everywhere, clothes on the floor and hanging off chairs. The bed was nearly recognizable, and the closet of more things. Tyron chuckled to himself, if his mom had come into his room and saw _this_ , he'd be beat so fast.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked, noticing his face.

"Nothin'," he smiled. "Don' worry about it."

"So," Ned began. "Where's the set?" A grin spread across Peter's face and he rolled over his bed to get to the side, which had been pulled out a little. Tucked between the small space between his bed and the wall, was a white decorated box, and a picture of the model space ship they were going to recreate out of legoes.

Peter smiled and opened up the box, "Let's get to work."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron, Ned, and Peter worked on the Lego set for an hour and a half. Once they had finished, Tyron felt mentally exhausted. "Well, boys," Ned said, equally as exhausted and impressed with their intricate Lego designing. "Looks like we finished."

"Not yet!" Peter said, standing on his bed and grabbing a small Lego piece he brought it down and showed the two others. It was a small red Lego flag. "The flag!"

"Was that in the kit?" Tyron asked, curiously.

"Nope," Ned said.

"On all of our remodels, we put the red flag on top," Peter explained.

"It's like our signature," Ned shrugged. "Last piece to the brilliant puzzle."

"Wanna do the honours, Tyron?" Peter asked, holding the flag to him. Tyron was surprised at first, but gently took it.

"The last puzzle to the masterpiece," Ned repeated. Tyron stuck the flag on top and Peter came behind him, hot gluing it down.

"Now it's done," Tyron smiled, actually  feeling apart of the group.

"Yep!" Ned seemed very pleased with all of their hard work. "Should I take it?" Peter nodded and handed it to Ned.

"Why do ya take it?" Tyron asked, a bit confused.

"Aunt May doesn't like to see the legoes, she thinks she'll step on a loose one. And, Ned had his own room --- he has three sisters.  So he can keep it at his house, hidden from all the females who believe that seeing a Lego immediately means they'll either step on one, or they have the sudden urge to destroy it." Tyron barked out a laugh and Ned gently took the Lego masterpiece.

"I have to head home, or my mom will probably be screaming at me later," Ned said, carefully leaving the room. Peter and Tyron followed.

"Tell her I said hi," Peter remined as Ned set it down and began to put on his shoes. Mrs. May came out of her bedroom and smiled.

"Are you heading out?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's getting dark. And, I will, Peter," he said, slipping his feet in haphazardly. "Bye, May. See ya, guys!"

"Bye," Tyron and Peter said in unison, as the door closed and Ned's footsteps disappeared down the steps.

"What do you two boys want for dinner?" Mrs. May asked.

"Pizza?" Peter suggested, and Tyron forced himself to nod, but his stomach said otherwise. "I'll order it."

"I'll be in my room if you boys need me," Mrs. May said, and then turned away. Peter grabbed the house phone and began down the hall again, so Tyron followed. He sat on his bed and dialed a number.

Tyron listened silently as he ordered a large cheese pizza. He felt slightly guilty when he heard the total, and decided to slip Peter the cash for it later to pay him back.

"It'll be here in about forty minutes," Peter said, leaving the house phone at his nightstand.

Tyron nodded, "I gotta finish m'homework anyway," He said, picking his backpack off the floor. "It'll be a good way to pass the time."

"Yeah, me too," Peter said, going to grab his bag and pulling out his books. Peter had picked up a copy of the homework for him since he skipped the rest of the day. Besides, he already had a ton of makeup work to finish for the past few weeks, so he definitely had his work cut out for him.

Tyron dove right in, reading the text for history. They were studying quietly for about ten minutes, or so. Then, as Peter switched subjects, he asked. "What school did you go to before you came here?"

"Uh," He rubbed his neck, not looking up from his paper. He didn't know how to lie his way out of this one. "I didn't. Like, go to school. I, kinda, quit-ish in middle school. Then, I studied an' came back later, for high school, ya know."

Peter looked at him, surprised. "What made you quit school in _middle school_?"

"Home circumstances. M'family s'pretty fucked up," he said, chuckling. That was an _understatement_.

Peter could only nod, and turned back to his work, so Tyron did too. Tyron bit the end of his pen, hungrily gnawing on it.

Suddenly, his bag vibrated and Tyron froze. He forgot about his phone. He reached over, digging in his backpack for a few seconds before finding it, with Tony's caller ID displayed on the front. He quickly shut down the phone, and pushed it back in his bag.

"Who was that?" Peter asked, curiously.

"My... Dad," Tyron replied after a hesitant second, then turned back to his work and frowned. "Hey, did you do the history assignment yet?"

"No," Peter shrugged and Tyron sighed, going back to the question and scanning his book. "Oh, dude, you missed out earlier," Tyron glanced up for a moment send Peter continued.

"Hmm? Wha' happened?"

"Liz happened. I saw her glance at me in the halls earlier, between lunch and third period. And, I _swear_ I saw her smirk!"

"Wow, she _totally_ checked you out," Tyron teased and Peter huffed, nudging his leg with his foot. "I don' even know why ya have ya eyes set on her. I mean, isn't she head of, like, _everythin_ '?"

"Not _everything_ ," Peter huffed testily. "Just debate, decathalon, student council---"

"That's practically everythin'!" Tyron laughed and Peter crossed his arms, frowning.

"She's really nice, I mean, for a senior. And she's hot, so..."

"That's not what ya looking at, though, aren't ya?" Tyron rose an eyebrow. "Course homegirl is hot, I mean, didn't she date Miles Forbes at some point? And, she's head of everythin', which means she's _hella_ smart. That's wha' ya want --- _smart_. I mean, look at ya. Ya _all_ brains and _no_ brawn. I could knock ya down with a _breeze_ , dude."

"That's not fair," Peter pouted, but sighed, "She's never gonna notice me anyway..."

"Hey," Tyron frowned. "I didn't say she'd never _notice_ ya. If ya need her to hook up with ya, m'pretty sure I can arrange a few thin's..."

"What do you mean by ' _arrange a few things'_?" Peter said with a suspicious eyebrow.

"That means, don't worry ya little brown-haired head about it," Tyron smiled. "If ya _want_ Liz Allan, ya will _have_ Liz Allan. Jus' gotta pull a few strin's."

"I don't want you to hold my hand through the entire process!" Tyron rose an eyebrow, confused. "I want to... _Introduce myself_. I wanna do it myself --- I'll figure it out."

"Ya sure? I mean, I really _can_ \---"

"Don't worry about it," Peter laughed, so Tyron dropped it. "What about you anyway? You never talk about anyone you're interested in."

" _Hmm_..." Tyron muttered, turning back to his work, but Peter was not having it.

"Oh, _come on_!" He whined. "I just told you _all_ about Liz. Give me a _name_ , just _one_ you might have you sights on."

"S'not tha' big of a deal," Tyron said, laughing. "I jus' got out of a relationship. We..." Tyron swallowed down a bitter taste of despair. "We broke things off. It wasn't working out."

"Oh..." Peter was softer, and looked down. "What was her name?"

"Pietro," Tyron said before he could stop himself.

Peter gave him an odd look. "That's not a girl's..." He trailed off, then his eyes went wide, and his mouth made a small ' _o_ '. "Oh. _Oh_! You didn't tell me you were _gay_!"

"You didn't ask," Tyron shrugged.

"Oh. That... That makes a bit more sense..." Tyron laughed, now nudging Peter with his foot.

"What, are ya upset?" He teased, but Peter flushed.

"No! I just... I dunno. I never expected..."

"It's a'ight," Tyron told him, laughing.

"So, Pietro, huh? What was he like?" Tyron looked away, trying to ward the silly grin off his face.

"He was perfect, man. Like," he exhaled, shaking his head. "He was _so perfect_..."

"What happened?" Tyron's smile faltered.

"Ah, he... And I..." Tyron rubbed the back of his neck. "Things, uh, fell apart..."

"I'm sorry, man," Peter said quietly, but Tyron shook his head.

"S'fine. I... Need to move on, right?" He shrugged, then went down to his work, trying to stop the tears from coming. He bit the inside of his cheek and focused on the history problem he was on.

They went into a uncomfortable silence for about ten more minutes, but then a knock sounded at the door, and Peter shot up. "That's probably the pizza," He said, going to open it.

Tyron stayed where he was, trying to finish his question. After a couple of minutes, he got suspicious and stood up.

" _Peter_? Ya a'ight?" He asked, coming out of his room, his metal pen still in his hand, ready to absorb it at any moment.

"Oh, yeah!" He said, scrambling to stand up. Tyron walked into the room, and then froze. "Your aunt just came over apparently," Peter said, then whispered in a low voice, "And you didn't tell me she was _hot_..."

"She's _not_ ," Tyron deadpanned, staring at Natasha, who was giving him a smug smirk.

"Maybe not to _you_ , but---" 

"Is it a'ight if we talk outside?" Tyron said, stiffly. Peter finally seemed to gauge their seriousness and frowned.

"Yeah, that's cool, I'll be up here," he said.

"Thanks," Tyron replied as Peter turned to leave. "Oh, an' I left m'bag in ya room."

"You might want to grab it," Natasha told him.

"I'll leave it _here_ ," Tyron said, his voice tight. Then, he marched towards the door, Natasha trailing behind him. He dashed down the steps, and out the front door, Natahsa only seconds behind.

"Why are ya here?" He demanded once the apartment building door has closed.

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied. "Shouldn't you be at the _Tower_? Why haven't you come back yet? Do you know what time it is? You could've _called_ , you know."

"I _can't_ come home," Tyron growled. "Not yet. I..." He glanced around, having to remind himself that Zion might not have as much power in this area opposed to the Hood.

"Did you get in trouble? Are you hiding from someone?"

"No, I...!" Tyron sighed, shaking his head. "Ya wouldn't understand."

"I _would_ understand, if you'd _talk_ to me, Tyron! What's going _on_!? Why can't you come back?"

"I..." Tyron bit his lip, looking away from Natasha. "Remember that girl that made me eat that cookie --- Michelle?"

"Yeah, what about her?"

"She _knows_ ," Tyron ran a hand down his face. "Nat, she knows about _everythin'_. An' she threatened to tell an' if... If Baron found out where I was, if he found out I was livin' wit' y'all... He'd _kill_ me." Tyron ran his fingers through his hair, trying to breathe.

"Okay. Okay, we can talk to her, get her not to tell."

"She won't _listen_. She... She said I killed her best friend's family when... I was wit' Baron," he explained, not meeting her eyes. "She... She was _there_. She..." Tyron covered his eyes. "I know wha' she's talkin' 'bout too. I--I _remember_ it, Nat. I remember Baron tellin' m'to kill 'em, an'..." Tyron clenched his teeth. "She said for m'to give her name before the end of the week. I don't know her name, Nat. I--I don' _remember_ it." Tyron exhaled. "Look, she... She don' know that m'wit' ya, so... If she thinks m'stayin' 'ere..."

"Tyron, you can't stay here _forever_ ," Natasha reminded him gently.

"I know," he said. He didn't tell her his plans on skipping town in the morning. He didn't need her looking for him. "I jus'... After all y'all have done for me, I don' wanna ruin y'all lives. If people knew ya had m'in the Tower, a mutant an' a murderer, y'all would be in trouble. I _can't_ do that to ya."

"Tyron, we can _help_ ," Natasha said, frowning at his stressful situation. "We can talk to this girl. You've changed now, we can show her. Or, we can convince her not to tell anyone about your situation."

"She _won't listen_ ," Tyron stressed. "Look, jus' go, okay? M'sorry for not callin' ya. I will as soon as this situation clears. Jus'... Give m'some time, a'ight?"

Natasha sighed, seriously hesitant on this suggestion, but then look at him. He felt on the verge of tears from frustration, and blinked them back quickly, so the woman wouldn't see.

"Fine," She said. "I'll talk to the others. Call us in the morning so that we know you are alright, okay?"

"Got it," Tyron said, fixing his face. Natasha moved closer and hugged him tight. Tyron froze, he still wasn't used to hugs and hugging. He stiffly hugged her back and then let go. "I'll call in the mornin'." He promised.

"Do you need anything? Money? _Food_?" She asked. "I can run over at---"

"I'll be fine," he assured, even though he felt like his stomach was going to burn a hole through his skin if he didn't eat soon. "Don't worry. Go, I don' want anyone seein' us..."

"Why's that?" Natasha asked, smirking slightly.

He rolled his eyes, gently pushing her away, and she began to walk. "Don't forget to call," Natasha told him.

"I won't," he assured, then turned back to the apartment and buzzed the door.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron and Peter stayed up late that night in his bedroom, and Tyron narrowly managed to dodge eating the entire night, assuring Peter he wasn't hungry. They talked for hours, mostly about schoolwork, but then about girls and guys at their school.

"So, yeah, Liz is good an' all," Tyron was saying. "But, what 'bout Samantha? From science?"

"I've known Samantha since _seventh grade_ ," Peter said. "I dunno, it'd feel weird with her."

"Ya have been _brainwashed_ by Liz!" Tyron teased, and Peter laughed, shaking his head.

"Then, I'm happy to be trapped under her spell," he joked and Tyron chuckled. "Besides, it could be _worse_."

"Yeah. She could be a _bitch_ ," Tyron agreed, and the statement was followed by a very undeserving pillow to the face. " _Hey_! It was only a _suggestion_! An' it's true! She could have been, but good for ya she was raised right!"

"Shut up," Peter said laughing, turning over on his bed. "Who do you have your eyes set on, anyway?"

" _Meh_ ," Tyron shrugged. "It's too soon to say. I mean, ya guys got some fine lookin' guys, but they're all way to young for me. Ya know m'seventeen, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Peter sighed. "What did it feel like, to be in love with someone like that?"

Tyron smiled, " _Magical_."

"You are _such_ a sap," Peter teased and Tyron barked out laughing.

"It's _true_! He was... He was so _perfect_ , ya know? Like, ya don' really find that kind of perfect 'ere."

"Where was he from?"

"He... Immigrated 'ere, from Slovakia. Before all the shit happened to it," Tyron said. "He was smart too. An' _hot_. _Don't_ forget hot."

"I'm sure you won't," Peter chuckled, and Tyron rolled his eyes.

"Ah... Man, I miss 'im..." Tyron murmured, his heart feeling heavy.

Peter decided to change the subject, "When did you know you were gay?"

"Hmm? Seventh grade," Tyron said with a yawn. "S'gettin' late, an' we got school tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay, I get it," Peter said, rolling his eyes and moving over to pull the light switch.

Tyron, who had been on the floor, closed his eyes. He was going to sort everything out in the morning, which meant he needed to sleep well tonight.

"'Night Peter," he said with a soft yawn.

"'Night," Peter replied. Tyron waited for hours, until both Peter and Mrs. May were definitely deep into sleep.

He stood slowly, grabbed his bag, pulling out the extra textbooks, and shoving a few pairs of Peter's clothes in. Then, he opened the door, grabbed his shoes and went out of the window and into the night.


	27. 27 - Be An Activist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PSA: I will be on hiatus for the month of January, and will resume updating in February 2018. The last chapters to be updated will be Bloody Red and chapter one of Withering Wishes, book two to Fading Echoes. Thanks and happy reading!

**Chapter Twenty-Seven:**

Tyron tossed his hood up and walked briskly through the dark streets of Queens. The streetlamps hardly lit the street and made it harder to see, but Tyron didn't mind.

He saw a few cars drive by, some blasting music that should have woke up the entire neighborhood, but none of the apartment lights turned on.

Tyron shivered slightly, with winter coming, his clothes now would hardly be acceptable, but he had nothing else.

Actually, he did, back at the Tower, but Tyron knew he couldn't go back. Never again.

He finally made it to a small, open bar, and walked inside. It was pretty much empty --- probably because it was Monday night and nearly three AM. A woman turn to him, eyebrow raised. "What are you doin' here, kid?" The bartender demanded.

"Can I jus' get some water?" He asked quietly, keeping his head down. The woman sighed, but turned around, and a second later, handed him a glass of water. The television was on beside him as he slowly sipped the water. It was broadcasting a news outlet. The sound hadn't been on, but captions ran under the screen, a few seconds out of time with the reporters lips.

"... _Congress getting a lot of backlash for this new bill, but we have been given some word from a few saying that it could change the way Mutants in the future. By restricting the access Mutants have, it will keep the public safe. Mutants, according to the bill, will have to be registered as Sub-Humans, and follow strict guidelines. Those who don't follow the bill be facing significant jail time._ "

Tyron stared at the screen and the woman watched him as she wiped off a glass. "I guess you haven't heard about that yet then, huh?" She said. "Poor bastards. It gets sent to the President this friday, and since he's always been Anti-Mutant, judging by his agenda, it'll probably go through."

"But... But ain't that illegal!?" Tyron demanded, shocked, "They can't do that! We--- _Mutants_ never... They never did anythin' wrong!"

"It's not that they didn't," a man grunted from a few seats down the bar stool counter. "It's that they could. Lives are at stake here. It's a dangerous time for normal humans, ya know."

"Oh, hush up, Larry," the woman said, brushing him off with a swat from her rag. "Look kid, it's out of our hands. Especially with that kid that died recently, people are talking about a civil war---"

"Wait wait," Tyron narrowed his eyes. "'Kid that died'?"

She nodded, "Mm-hmm. The kid from Queens that got shot up by police and nothing happened? Supposedly, people came into his house and... Well, bashed his head in. Happened 'round noon today, and everyone's talking about it online, apparently. People trying to stir up a riot because of the kid, and since people are so divided against mutants and humans," she shrugged and sighed. "I'm just gonna say that if something did happen, it sure as hell wouldn't be a fair fight."

"He..." Tyron swallowed. "He's _dead_...?"

"Yeah," she said, giving him an odd look. Tyron felt on the verge of tears, and he probably looked like it too because the woman gave him a look of pity for a moment. "I'm sorry, kid, was it something I said? Did... Did you know him?"

"I..." Tyron inhaled and turned away. He pushed the half-empty glass of water that he hardly sipped away. "I gotta go," he murmured and then proceeded to run straight out into the night again.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron spent the rest of the night trying desperately to keep his tears at bay. He failed a few times, but managed it for the most part. He also wandered the streets of Queens. He stuck to the shadows and made his way to across to Brooklyn without being stopped.

Tyron walked the familiar streets of the rundown slums of Brooklyn. He closed his eyes and inhaled. The sent of stale gas and --- probably his --- body odor. He sighed, did he really want to go through with this? He could just leave. He could leave and never come back, just... Forget.

But, if he didn't do anything, and that hill was past, what did that mean for him? What did that mean for anyone like him? For Lars, who was so confused and scared when he went to visit him in the hospital. He didn't know what was going to happen to him, he didn't deserve to die like he did.

Tyron exhaled and turned the corner, it anything, he was going to do this for Lars, and the people like Lars who suffered for just being themselves.

"For Lars," he mumbled to himself as he came face to face with the entrance of Baron's 'Yard.

Tyron moved to Willy's window and tapped on it. The man inside was dozing peacefully, but sat up straight when he heard. He had a gun in his hand and it was pointed at Tyron. "Goddamn it, kid!" He hissed, sitting up straighter and stretching. "The hell do ya want!?"

"I need to talk to Baron," he told him.

"Come back tomorrow, when it's not... Three AM, damn it!"

"I need to talk to Baron, Willy," Willy froze. The only person who ever called him Willy was Tyron. He never told him his real name, so Tyron gave him one. It was a joke he made when Willy wouldn't let him in. He'd called him a ' _Willy big dick'._

"What the hell are you doing back here, boy?" Willy demanded. He moved his hand to subtly pick up the communicator in the booth.

"I need to talk to Baron," Tyron said, crossing his arms.

" _What is it_?" A familiar voice demanded crabbily on the other end. " _What do you want_?"

"I've got someone here to see ya," Willy said and before Baron could argue more, he said, "It's the metal kid."

There was a silence. Then, Baron said, " _Send him in_."

"Got it." Then, Willy hung up and pushed a button on his control panel, causing the doors to open. "You're a real _dumbass_ , ya know," he told Tyron as Tyron began to walk. "If I were you, I'd get out of the goddamn _state_."

"Yeah," Tyron muttered as he entered his own personal hell. "I'll take tha' into consideration."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

When Tyron opened the door to Baron's... Center of control, he saw Baron sitting on his usual leather seat, a woman on his leg. She was hardly dressed, and was just barely wearing what was considered lingerie.

Baron smiled and made a hand motion for Tyron to close the door. He did, but he didn't lock it.

"You were the last person I'd expect to see back here," Baron mused. "What have you been doing, Tom? I've missed you..."

"Don't lie to me," Tyron narrowed his eyes. "Ya miss ya money. Where's ya lil' goons that followed ya everywhere?

"Hmm? They've been... Taken care if," he shrugged dismissing the topic. "Anyways, I hope you have a good reason to be waking me up this early. I could have you killed."

"If ya wanted m'killed, ya would've done it already."

"You don't know that."

"I do," Baron's eyes narrowed and the woman on his lap shifted positons, getting restless and annoyed by the conversation. Tyron was also getting annoyed, but it was because of her presence. "Does she have to be here?" He demanded and Baron chuckled, stroking the backside of the woman, making her practically turn to liquid in his lap.

"She goes where I want her to," he said coolly. "And both of us will be going back to sleep if you don't start speaking something that makes any kind of sense."

Tyron scoffed, but crossed his arms. "I want you to start a riot," he told Baron. Baron, for his part, seemed surprised and rose an eyebrow because of it.

"And why would I do that? In fact, why would I even _consider_ that?"

"Because," Tyron straightened. "Ya heard the news, the one about mutants. If this bill gets passed, ya know we'll _all_ be absolutely fucked. What will ya be without your lil' band of misfits, hmm? If they find out that ya are runnin' something that protects mutants, or that ya are a mutant too? Wha's that gonna do, Baron? How ya gonna make money?" Baron's eyes narrowed, he hated being reminded that he was a mutant too.

"So you think rioting will fix this?" Baron scoffed but Tyron rolled his eyes.

"Nah. I think a riot would be a good cover for wha's next," Tyron glanced towards the window that had been covered. The overhead lights were still on, though, and a bit of it shined through the window. "People've been sayin' tha' the world's changin'. We're the people tha's causing the change. An' they're gonna kill us because of it." Tyron looked back at Baron, a ferocity in his eyes. "I refuse to die because they can't let mutants coexist wit' humans."

"And what are you going to do because of it?" Baron asked, curiously.

"We're gonna to make 'em listen. We're gonna to kidnap Tony Stark."


	28. 28 - Be An Leader

**Chapter Twenty-Eight:**

Baron couldn't control his laughter. It rang loud and heavy, and Tyron was almost concerned that he'd wake up the entire Yard. Tyron stood, tense, until finally, Baron stopped.

"How the _hell_ are you going to manage that?" He asked, chuckling still. He stood and walked across the room, grabbing a can of beer out of the fridge and opened it.

"I know a way," Tyron shrugged. "All I need you to do is make it work. On Friday, that's when the most people will be in the city. We to through Brooklyn and into the City. We use Stark as our... Leverage."

"How are you going to get Tony Stark?" Baron demanded and Tyron bristled. He could feel Baron's power working on him. He practically sucked memories out of someone's head, and replaced them with whatever he wanted them to be. It felt like hell if he did it to you, and Tyron hated it when he tried it on him.

Tyron grabbed the door handle, and turned his own hand to a sharp blade, eyes narrowed. "Don't fuckin' think about it," he growled. Baron lifted his head and backed off a little. Tyron inhaled slightly and regained his composure. "Friday, we'll do it. Get the word out."

"And if I don't want to start this riot for you?" Baron asked.

"I'll ask Zion to do it." Baron tensed. He hated it whenever Zion was mentioned. "He might not do it right, but at least it'll be done."

Baron glared at him for a few more minutes. "Friday."

Tyron smirked, "Good." Then, he left the building.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron as soon as Tyron was far enough away from Baron's Pit, he moved to a back alley and tried to breathe. His heart raced for every second he was in there with that man --- it was still beating like a rabbit's now --- but, he felt a little better. He... Had to sort a few things in his 'plan', which was haphazardly thought up and didn't really have an end result yet.

Tyron went through it in his head as he walked through the streets of Brooklyn and made his way back to Queens.

His plan, as silly as it sounded, was to get the Avengers more involved in mutant issues. If this new bill involving a Mutant curfew was passed, then chances are likely that mutants would need to be screened, which could be that anyone with a record, of even suspected of being a mutant would be taken in. And, if they did that, and decided that your mutation was dangerous, what were they going to do? Lock you up? Kill you?

The thought gave Tyron chills. Not for him, though, for people like him. Innocent mutants who are just thrusted into this new, strange life and don't know what to do. Tyron remembered his early days vividly, where starvation was around the corner because he kept denying who and what he was. Because he was scared and wantwd to go home, but knew if he did, his father would have him killed, or kill him himself.

Tyron stopped walking for a minute and breathed, suppressing the memory. He needed to get back on track. His _plan!_

"Okay..." Tyron breathed and resumed walking. He was going to solve all his issues by Friday. His main one being his promise to Baron about kidnapping Tony. This being a pretty big claim, especially since he hadn't even asked Tony if he could even kidnap him.

Tyron sighed and began to walk faster, following the bright lifhts in the distance where New York illuminated the sky. First of all, he needed a phone.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron waited until around six AM to call Tony. Knowing his insomniatic tendencies, he would probably be up and about this time. That, or just getting to sleep. Either way, Tony would need to listen. It was already technically Tuesday and he only did have five days to organize an illegal riot and consented kidnapping.

He turned into a fancy-looking restaurant and tried not to look suspicious as he approached the greeter. She was a tall blonde woman wearing a red velvet uniform and she tensed, probably intimidated. "Hi, uh." Tyron's eyes darted away. He never felt comfortable talking around people he didnt actually know. "This... May sound weird, but, could I borrow your phone? Or... A phone. I can't find mines and I really need to call my parents..."

The woman looked at him and sighed, "Follow me," she said, waving him over. She led him into the very fancy resturant, and brought him to a bartender, who wss preparing his station. "Wha's th' goin's, Madeline?" He asked, his accent thick and He almost sounded like a pirate, or something like that.

"He just needs the phone, Henry," The woman, Madeline, explained easily, then left the two alone.

Tyron shrugged helplessly and moved to sit down, but the man stopped him with a, "Oi! Oi!" Tyron stood, stopping in his tracks. "Payers git to sit down. Ya gonna stand, m'boy. 'Less you plannin' on buyin' a beer."

"Right, okay, can I talk on th' phone now." Tyron asked. Henry the Bartender made a face, but pulled up a small landline phone for him to use.

Tyron began to dial numbers slowly, before waiting as the line rang. Two rings later, it picked up. " _Hello_?"

"Tony?" Tyron said and he heard a sharp crash of something falling followed by a hiss.

" _Ah! Damn it_!" He muttered. " _Tyron? Is that you_?"

"Yeah. I... I need to talk to ya."

" _Then, come to the Tower. Where are you_?"

"Can ya meet m'at the fork in Center Drive at 9?" Tyron asked abprubtly.

" _Why? Just come here and_ \---" Tyron didn't have time for that. He hung up and pushed the phone away. The bartender was watching him as he dried the glass.

"Ar' ya in some kinda trouble, boy?" He asked, eyes narrowed.

"No, m'not," he said quickly and then turned to leave quickly.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron sat at the base of a tree at the fork in Center Drive quietly. He was looking out over the street. It was still early, and the morning joggers had come out and ran past him.

Tyron sat quietly his hands and knees to his chest. His stomach growled on occasion, but he ignored it. A finger fiddled with the string of his backpack, keeping his mind distracted as he ran his plan through his head.

Someone placed their hand on his shoulder and Tyron jumped, looking up. Tony was staring down at him, his brows furrowed and eyes hidded behind inconspicuously dark sunglasses.

"So, are you going to explain why you had to be met at Central Park this early, or...?" Tony asked, trailing off.

"Sit down," Tyron said and he did, watching Tyron closely. Tyron rubbed his temples, "I need to kidnap ya," he said immediately.

Tony stared at him, " _What_?"

"Listen. I..." He sighed. "Did Nat tell ya wha' was goin' on?"

"Yes, but it wasn't much and what she said had nothing to do with you _kidnapping_ me!"

"I saw the news," Tyron explained. "About the Mutant bill."

"I did too. It's bullshit."

"'Xactly. I also heard what happened to Lars..." Tyron inhaled before he spoke again. "There's gonna be a riot."

"A _what_?!" Tony's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"A riot. We're gonna go through 80th Street---"

"' _We're_ '!?" Tony exclaimed.

"Yeah. Now---"

"Wait, wait, wait," Tony was staring at him. "Tyron, you are actually talking about rioting over a silly bill---"

"' _A silly bill_ '!?" Tyron stared in shock at him.  "Tony, this bill is gonna change everythin' about mutants! They're tryin' to call us ' _Sub-Humans_ '! Tony, we aren't even considered humans anymore! An' when they register us, if they decide our mutation is dangerous, they're just gonna lock us up!"

"Tyron calm down," Tony said, staring at him and holding his hands up.

Tyron was shaking in anger and stopped so he could breathe. "Right. Anyways, we... We're gonna go down 80th, right? We might not get news coverage, but if we have ya, we could be taken seriously."

"First of all, why do _I_ have to be kidnapped?"

"Ya are the only one that'll understand," Tyron explained much more calmly this time. "Everyone else, not really. I mean, Steve isn't as ' _up-to-date_ ' on these kinds of topics as ya are. He'll understand, but not enough to do somethin'."

Tony shook his head, "I feel like there's a way better solution to go at this than storming down 80th."

"I thought 'bout gettin' a permit, but they won' let mutants in City Hall. An' the cops would be damned before they decide to protect us."

"We can get it under my name---"

"An' let everyone see ya openly support mutant rights? Ya company would be _destroyed_."

"Tyron, I don't care about my company right now if it means keeping you safe." Tyron was shocked at Tony's words.

Then, he rolled his eyes, "Ya don' mean tha'," he scoffed. "'Sides, Ms. Pepper would be under so much stress if ya _do_ do tha'. It's not worth it. We can find another way."

"Then do. But don't _riot_. There's other ways than that."

"'Ere _aren't_ , Tony," Tyron deadpanned. "Not for a mutant."

Tony sighed, looking away and running a hand through his hair. Tyron looked at the ground, picking at the grass. A car rolled down the street beside him and the smell of such pristine metals made his stomach growl loudly. Tony looked at him, a bit shocked.

"When was the last time you ate?" Tony asked.

"Doesn't matter," Tyron told him. "Look. I gotta go. I'll call ya later, a'ight." Tony grabbed his hand, keeping him where he was and Tyron flinched, but didn't move. He was still unnerved because of his conversation with Baron.

"Just come back to the Tower," Tony said with a short sigh.

"I _can't_ ," Tyron told him. "I told ya tha'."

"We can figure something out, Tyron." Tony told him, exasperatedly.

"Tony, I don' want y'all to get hurt," Tyron insisted. "If I come back now, then who knows what gonna happen."

"Tyron, you can't keep going on like that," Tony tried to help, but Tyron shook his head, not listening. He pulled his hand away and stick it in his hoodie pocket.

"I really gotta git goin'," he told him, and began to walk away briskly, making sure Tony didn't follow him.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron was missed to first period the that day, and didn't feel like coming in for Science, so he waited until lunch, and came through, knowing that Peter and Ned would be in their usual spot.

"'Ey," Tyron said, sitting down next to Peter on the edge of the bench making him move over a bit.

Peter blinked at him, shocked. "Wha---?! Where have _you_ been? I woke up and you were _gone_! May was really upset too."

"S'a'ight. Don' worry," Tyron assured. "M'Dad called late last night, somethin' happened an' I had to leave fast. Everything sorted out now. M'sorry for scarin' ya, I left really early."

"It's all good. I'll explain it to May tonight. Did you sort everything out with your Dad?"

"... Yeah," Tyron said after a while. He wouldn't be with Peter anymore. Especially since Tony and the others knew he had stayed there. "Look, 'ere's a lot goin' on so I won't be in this week. Can ya tell the teachers tha'? Maybe they'll lighten the payload if they know that shit's goin' on."

"What kind of shit?" Michelle asked, barging in on their conversation. Tyron stiffened and Michelle smirked, pleased at his uneasiness. "You guys hear about the Mutie Bill?" Michelle was speaking to everyone, but she was looking directly at Tyron. He grinded his teeth and glared back at her.

He hated, _hated_ being called a ' _Mutie_ '. It was like a dog's name. Something Baron would refer to him by. He hated that term more than the ' _N_ ' word.

"I heard," Tyron growled as Michelle shoveled macaroni and cheese in her mouth and smiled.

"I don't even get it," Peter frowned. "I thought it was like a census, but for mutants?"

"Nah," Tyron tried to keep his voice even. "It's more of a tracking system. Anyone wit' wha' they consider ' _friendly_ ' mutations tha' can't or won't harm innocents will be allowed to live in society, but they'll be forced to wear something tha' marks 'em as a mutant --- like a patch or something. Unfriendly mutants, wit' ' _dangerous_ ' abilities will be locked away for public safety or killed."

"Damn," Ned murmured and Peter nodded, just as surprised.

Tyron didn't meet his eyes, "Yeah... S'pretty fucked up."

"For _monsters_ maybe," Michelle said with a careless shrug. "Anyone else who hasn't been doing shit is fine, right?" Tyron knew the comment was directed towards him, and he knew he shouldn't take the bait, so he didn't.

"Ain't this the same shit fuckin' _Hitler_ did?" Tyron snarled, anger leaking in his voice and he noticed. Nobody said anything, just stared at him. Tyron sighed, cooling down. "Sorry. M'jus'... Real upset 'bout this. My... Cousin is a mutant..." He lied. Well, he didn't really know. It was likely one of his several cousins were mutants.

"I'm sorry, man," Peter said, tone dropping low.

"Me too," Ned said, but there was a hint if excitement in his tone. Tyron almost smiled. A guy like him lived off of comic books, fantasy, and Sci-Fi. Mutants, although claimed to be ' _America's #1 Public Enemy_ ' was also a strong connection of curiousity. If he knew Tyron was a mutant, the boy would have a playday.

"What's his mutation?" Ned asked.

"I dunno," Tyron lied. "Somethin' with metal, I think." Michelle's eyes narrowed and she glared at him.

"Well, I'm glad they're doing this. Think of the kids at risk that these Muties could hurt," Tyron turned on the girl, wanting to grab her nappy hair with one hand and the leg of the metal cafeteria take I stab her several times.

Tyron clenched his jaw and tried to relax. It would be unfit to strangle the girl in front of hundreds of witnesses. "But, there's still innocent mutants still discoverin' their mutations. Or, mutants forced to do something they didn't want to by other mutants. Sometimes, s'not their fault tha' shit happens."

"Yeah, well, maybe they shouldn't have put themselves there in the first place."

"Sometimes, they ain't go no _choice_. When someone 'olds a gun to ya head, ya would do whatever the person wants, 'ight?"

"Well, other people would just absorb the bullet, wouldn't they?" Tyron stiffened and glared at the girl. She smirked, knowing she had won this argument. "Well, I have to go. Other people to follow and shit. I'll see you later," she twirled her fingers and turned to leave.

"... What was that all about?" Ned asked, his thin eyebrows furrowed.

"Nothin'..." Tyron grumbled, lip curled in anger. "Don' worry. Anyways, I, uh, I can't stay long. I gotta head out. I probably won' be in the rest of th' week."

"Wait. You left your stuff at my house---"

"Right. I'll pick it up later," Tyron lied. He wasn't going to drag Peter's life into this.

Peter frowned, but nodded so Tyron got up to leave. "Where are you going to go?" Ned asked.

Tyron grinned, "Don' worry. I gotta few connections I can use. M'not entirely useless."

 


	29. 29 - Be A Negotiator

**Chapter Twenty-Nine:**

Tyron made his way out of the school and stumbled down the street, keeping to the side with his good covering his face.

Hunger gripped his stomach, and he wanted to go eat --- being in the city surrounded by good certainly made him hungry --- but he refrained from doing it. He had to finish his task. He had until Friday to make his riot work, and along with that, he had to find a way to convince Tony to allow him to be kidnapped.

Tyron kept walking, keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets. Someone was watching him. If Baron sent one of his men to follow him after he left that morning, and he knew he went to talk with Tony and had been to Midtown High, he would be in deep shit.

Tyron rubbed his temple and as he crossed the street, then turned into an alley. And hid near the side. His hand touched a trash bin and he began to absorb the metal.

A few minutes later, someone else entered quietly. Tyron stayed silent as they slowly walked through and looked around. When they came close enough, he pounced, pulling them away, his hand turned to metal and aimed against their neck.

"Wha' th' fuck do ya want?!" Tyron demanded, staring at them, then, he sighed, getting up. "Goddamn it, Natasha," he groaned, moving away from the woman.

Natasha stood and dusted herself off. "Well, it's good to know that you're on top of your game," Natasha admitted.

Tyron glared at her, "Why are ya followin' me?!"

"Tony told me what's going on---"

"I don't want ya help," he narrowed his eyes. " _Go_."

"Tyron, what you're planning --- it's _serious_."

"I told 'im I didn't want do git everyone involved," he groaned. "Stay out of this. If people knew it was connected wit' Tony---"

"Tony doesn't care---!"

" _I do_ , damn it!" Tyron shouted, "I care! I don' want y'all in this!"

" _Tyron_ \---"

"Leave m'alone," he snapped and turned to leave the alley and into the sidewalk. He got a few strange looks as people passed by, but nobody stopped him.

"Tyron!" Natasha called, going after him as walked away. "Tyron, we can talk and sort this out."

"'Ere s'no ' _this_ ' to sort out. I have work to do," Tyron grumbled.

"And what is that?"

"Not ya buisness."

" _Tyron_ \---"

"Natasha," Tyron pivoted and glared straight in her face. "Do not get involved in this. Period."

"You don't get to decide that," she told him. "You aren't the police, you don't get to decide who lives and who dies."

"Yeah, well, m'sick of other people decidin' for me," he turned to leave again. Natasha noticed how slow he moved, and how he shuddered whenever a car rolled past.

"Tyron, you're _sick_. You need to come home."

"M'fine," He told her. "I'll be fine."

"No, Tyron, you won't. When was the last time you ate something."

Tyron paused for a moment, considering the question, but replied with a turse-sounding, "That's not 'portant 'ight now."

"Of course it is important right now," Natasha grabbed his arm and pulled him to her as they stopped at a street corner, waiting for the light to change. He stared at her, and Natasha searched his face. Dark bags under his eyes signalled days with no rest. His temple was throbbing and his breathing was quick. Sweat dripped down the sides of his face and he did not look at all pleased.

"Please, Tyron," Natasha said softly. "Just come home. We can fix this."

Tyron looked at her and firmly shook his head. "Ya can't. Let m'do this." The light changed and Tyron started to walk away, slowly disappearing the crowd of people that had gathered to wait at the corner.

Natasha didn't follow him. She turned and spoke into her collar, "He didn't listen. What do we do now?"

" _Sit here and wait,_ " Steve replied back to her message. " _He'll make a move soon, and Tony's still got the tracker on him."_

"He _really_ doesn't want us involved," Natasha murmured, glancing back in the genral area where he was already long gone.

" _I know. But this is best for him. We'll watch out for him and wait for his next move_."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron came out of Walmart, wearing an entirely new set of clothes. He took his old clothes and a twenty dollar bill and handed it to a homeless man outside of the store. "I'll give you twenty to take these with you. Do whatever you want with them." The man nodded eagerly and snatched the clothes and the money from him, and them took off.

Tyron himself headed in the other direction, going down the street and passing from Brooklyn territory and into Queens territory. It was around five now, and he still had work to do.

Tyron walked for a few hours before finally stopping at a large night club that had also been a bar. It wasn't open yet, since it had only been around seven or so, but Tyron didn't care.

He walked up to the door and opened it. A two men sat at the steel counter, and a taller man in the back. He was black and had a long scar from his eye to his chin. "What're ya doin' ' ere, boy?" He growled, hand trailing under the counter. The other men turned and looked at him, interested by the strange event.

"Where's Zion?" Tyron demanded, his gaze levelled on the bartender.

"Who th' 'ell are ya talkin' 'bout?" He scoffed. "Git out."

Tyron approached the steel counter. As soon as his hands made contact with the metal, he absorbed it. His body shuddered as he quietly basked in recontact with delicious metal. The bartender watched him, eyes narrowed. "Git. Out," he growled, his hand raised to display a gun pointed at his chest.

"Tell m'where he is," Tyron demanded. His fingers slowly turned to metal claws, and the man watched in shock, recognizing his mutation.

"'E ain't here," he swallowed, staring at his hand and putting the gun back. "'E's out."

"Get him," Tyron said, forming his claws back to fingers and moving to sit on the stool. The bartender moved quickly, running to the back room, the door swinging behind him.

The two men tried to stand and leave, "Sit down. Nobody's going anywhere 'til Zion gets here."

"How ya gon' stop us?" One man demanded. Tyron didn't say anything. So, one of the man shot up and headed for the door. He tried to push, but the door was stuck. Tyron made sure of that when he entered.

"Let us outta 'ere!" The man who went to the door demanded, Tyron didn't move. He simply leaned against the counter coolly, waiting for Zion.

"Didn't ya 'ear 'im!" The other man who was still sitting demanded. "Let us out!" He grabbed Tyron shoulder with one hand, the other ready to punch him.

Tyron used the metal from the table to make spikes jut out from his shoulder, and the man yanked his hand away. Dark blood dripped from his palm to the floor, and the man hissed.

"Jus' wait," Tyron said as the man glared at him. "As soon as Zion comes, I'll let ya out. Go play some pool while we wait, if ya want."

"I ain't doing shit," the man near the door growled. His eyes burned like a terrified, caged animal, and darted around the room for a weapon. He stumbled to the bar counter and pulled a bottle of _Jack Daniel's_ from behind the bar. He smashed it against the steel bar counter and pointed it threateningly at Tyron.

Tyron stared at the jagged edges of the bottle and tensed. "Let is outta 'ere, or I'll kill ya!"

"Put tha' _down_ ," Tyron demanded. "I said I'll let ya out as soon as he get here."

"Fuck tha'!" He snapped and then charged at him.

Tyron moved out of the way as the man swung at him. The other man realized Tyron's disadvantage and moved to help the other man subdue him. He grabbed a chair and held it behind Tyron.

Tyron eyes narrowed as he ducked under the swipe of the wooden chair. The man with the broken bottle rushed him again, and Tyron moved, grabbing the man's arm. He twisted it, and the dropped the bottle. The other man came behind him and wrapped his arms around his neck.

Tyron threw his head back, making the man's head shoot back and he cried out in pain, stumbling back.

The man in front of him picked up the bottle and drove it into his stomach. Tyron winced, but yanked the man's hand away. With a swift notion, he spun the man's arm around him until he heard a sharp crack. Then, he pushed the man to the ground.

Both men groaned in pain as Tyron stood straighter, holding his stomach and moved to sit back at the counter. He grabbed a glass and reached over slowly to fill it with water. His stomach burned in pain, but he bit his lip and ignored it.

He sat back, slowly sipping his water, His hand coated in silvery blood, but he tried his best to ignore it. Five minutes later, the door behind the counter opened. The bartender and a taller black man stepped out.

The black man, or Zion, was at least a foot or maybe even two taller than Tyron. He had tatooes all up his neck and down his arm. He wore a simple white wife-beater few shirt that had fading burgundy stains that could easily pass a blood. He wore loose jeans that had holes in the knees. His hair was cut short, like an army buzzcut and his eyes were narrowed and annoyed.

"Zion," Tyron said, standing. The bartender came around the counter, grabbing one of the men off the ground and bringing them to the back. Then, he brought the other and did the same.

" _Mutie_ ," Zion replied, his voice sounding as gruff as he looked. "Mind tellin' me why scum like you are doin' in one of my bars."

"Lookin' for ya," Tyron replied. "We need to talk."

Zion grunted, "I don't talk to muties, boy. I kill 'em." Tyron stared at him, trying to swallow the fear building up in his throat.

He heard the stories of Zion buying mutants like him from human trafficking markets, then taking them to fighting rings and betting them against other mutants. Even Baron was humane enough to keep him out of those, and Tyron was thankful for that. Mutants barely lasted a few days after entering those rings, and their bodies were discarded like trash.

"There's gonna be a riot this Friday, down 80th between ya an' Baron's territory," Tyron explained. "All m'askin' ya to do is keep ya men outta it."

Zion scoffed, eyes narrowed, "And why would I do that?" He challenged. Tyron stared him in the eyes, chills running down his spine.

"I'll fight for ya," he said. "In the ring. I'll fight, but only if ya keep ya men off the street on Friday down 80th."

Zion stared at him, thinking. "Who's sayin' I can't take you there right now, with or without your say."

"I would kill ya," Tyron replied calmly. "And, where would that put us?"

"Did Baron put you up to this?"

"No. This is all me."

"What kinda fucked up mutie offers to join a fight ring?" Zion scoffed.

"I guess I am. Do we have a deal?" He held out his hand, which was all skin, no silver. Zion watched him.

"Saturday morning, I want you here," Zion said, staring at him.

"I'll be here."

"If it looks like you are about to lose one fight, then I'll kill you myself."

"Fair enough." Zion nodded, approving this and finally shook his hand.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron left the nightclub gasping, trying not go think of what he just promised one of the most dangerous men in Queens. At least, Tyron thought, he was pimping himself out, and was not being pimped out by Baron.

Tyron shuddered and made his way down the street, trying to get his breathing under control. He was not so keen on talking to the man that had hundreds of dead mutants blood on his hands.

He turned the corner and was met with a huge club in his face. Tyron fell back, his head hitting the concrete and eyes rolling back in his head. He felt someone grab his arm and toss him in a van. The large door closed and they drove away.

Tyron groaned as someone put a phone to his face, " _I have to admit, your offer was a bit tempting, Mutie. But, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to have Baron's star pet in my Ring._ "

"Fuck you," Tyron groaned, shuddering. Someone kicked him in the stomach, making his open wound burn and bleed in pain.

" _Yeah, well, have fun with that_ ," then, the phone hung up.

Tyron breathed, trying to sit up, but someone used a bat and hit him with it. Putting him back on the floor. Another man straddled him, tying his hands with coarse rope and using a scarf to gag him.

Tyron glared at whoever was holding him, but his vision was doubled and his head was spinning. He heard grunting and someone muttering to someone else. They said something along the lines of " _put him out_ " before something hard hit him in the head and his eyes closed.


	30. 30 - Be A Fighter

**Chapter Thirty:**

Tyron shivered violently, curling into himself on the cold ground. Freezing couldn't even describe how cold he was at the moment. His breathing came out in short pants and his enter body shook.

"Let..." He croaked, moving to stand. "Let me out." He wasn't loud, and the walls of his freezing prison were probably thicker than he thought.

Slowly, Tyron rose to his feet, shivering violently. He put his hand to the wall, but instantly took it back when the coldness felt so cold that it burned. He couldn't stay here, he couldn't breathe.

"Let me _out_!" Tyron yelled again, and gained no response. He inhaled a few sharp breaths before clenching his fists and banging against the freezing metal. Tyron screamed the entire time, until his throat felt raw and hoarse, so he was forced to stop. But, he didn't stop pounding.

Eventually, he heard a click and Tyron took a step back, ready to run, but was met with a big bucket of water instead. Tyron stumbled back, sputtering as he heard loud men laugh at him as they swung the big metal door closed again.

Tyron was left in the dark and the cold so cold he could even shiver. The water thrown at him had hardened easily and was now forming icicles on his lashes. Tyron had the overwhelming need to sleep, but at the same time, he knew that if he did, he probably wouldn't wake back up.

The cold and the boredom and the humming of the freezer seemed to soften his thoughts however. Soon, his mind and body have way to the cold and he was out.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron heard the door open and he sluggishly sat up. A man had to practically pry his behind off the floor since Tyron had been sitting there for a while. Tyron didn't mind as the man roughly took Tyron's hands and yanked on them. Tyron couldn't feel his fingers, they were so numb.

Slowly, he was dragged outside. Tyron eyelids opened, but his eyes rolled aimlessly and unfocused. He heard talking around him, so Tyron tried to shake himself awake. But, he had little to no energy to move, so he was left simply wiggling.

Someone noticed this and started bellowing with laughter. They pointed at him and slapped their knee. Tyron inhaled, and bit his cheek, annoyed. As soon as he regained feeling in his... Everywhere, he would kill this man.

Tyron parted his lips to speak, but his throat burned and his words hoarse. "W... Wh... Where am... I?" He demanded roughly before falling into a coughing fit.

The man chuckled, "Nowhere, yet, Mutie," he promised, the took him by the leg and began dragging him through the building. Tyron groaned, trying to fight him. But he was very strong. He turned, looking for anything metal, but it was all out of his reach.

Tyron breathed heavily, trying not to panic. But, after being in that freezer for hours, hardly able to breath and not being able to see anything, he had been a little unnerved.

Finally, the man opened a door and turned into a room, roughly swinging him in. The room was empty, and other than the door he just entered, there was one other. It had no handle and instead seemed to look like it slided.

The man closed the door and Tyron could hear the loud metal lock slamming in place. He swallowed, looking around.

Tyron tried to remember why he was here. He... Went to one of Zion's clubs before it opened. He promised him that he would fight for him, if he kept his men off the streets that upcoming Friday. He said agreed, and then Tyron left. Then, he betrayed him... And they took him. Here. This was the Ring.

Tyron felt a wave of nausea hit him and he nearly stumbled over. The door had slid open and revealed noise and bright lights at the end of a tunnel. Tyron moved back, Zion broke their deal, he wasn't going to fight for him!

He nearly backed up to the wall, if spikes hadn't protruded from them now. Tyron stared in shock as they quickly came closer, closing in on him. He had no other choice. Tyron swallowed, eyes glancing back and forth from the walls to the fight nervously. With his trepidation, the walls sped up, and Tyron was forced back several feet, if he didn't want to be impaled.

Tyron turned back to the opened and tried to shake out his hands. They still felt numb and he was still cold as hell --- which isn't the best metaphor, now that he thought about it.

He turned and left through the opening. The mindless chanting and screaming got louder and more excited. Tyron felt sick again, and then the walls of the tunnel also started to close in as well, with dozens of spikes as sharp as knives.

Tyron hurried up, and finally entered the ring. It wasn't very wide, but it was extremely tall. From the ceiling to the floor, there was thick metal mesh in order to protect the people watching. They were screaming and yelling obsencities, and throwing food at him, which Tyron wiped off in disgust.

" _Metal Man_!" A familiar voice praised. Tyron looked around for the owner, but couldn't see anyone. He scowled, anger fueling him. All this metal around him made him hungry, and he hasn't eaten in days.

Then, the other door opened and another man ran out. Tyron stared, he wasn't a man, but a child. No older than fourteen maybe. He looked scared but also fierce at the same time. When his eyes made contact with Tyron's he turned wild, practically roaring at him. Then, he rolled his shoulders and seven foot scaly wings slid out of his back and shook themselves in the air. They were bleeding and had holes in a few areas, but he didn't seem to mind.

Tyron stared at the boy's face, he had seen that face before. Where... Where did he _see_ it...?

" _Bat_!" The announcer yelled and Tyron winced when the entire crowd cheered. Tyron could only guess who their favourite was. " _Three... Two... One..._ Fight!"

Giving him no time to think, the boy lunged, his hands were reaching for his throat and they were clawed and sharp. Tyron moved instantly, going for the metal mesh wall. Before he could even absorb anything, electricity went through his bones and Tyron screamed, letting go. His skin was burning, and the entire crowd laughed.

Tyron groaned, twitching. He saw a blur and then the boy was on top of him, straddling his body and his hand raised. Tyron's eyes widened, and he grabbed the boy's arms, wrestling them away from his face, but he was strong.

Tyron grunted and kicked him off him, staggering to get up. He shuddered, the only metal around him was the electric mesh and the dangling ones from the ceiling. Which, he couldn't reach.

Tyron realized that he was on a whole new layer of _fucked_.

The boy raised his wings and hissed at him. Tyron held out a hand, as if calming a dog. "We don' have to fight," Tyron said calmly as the boy eyed him madly, circling him. Tyron walked too, keeping his eyes fixed on him. "They can't make us. We can stay 'ere an' talk to one 'nother. Do ya wanna do tha'? I don't wanna fight ya." The boy showed no signs of hearing his words --- which might have been because of the increasing volume in the room.

The boy lunged at him again, and Tyron jumped out of the way, grabbing his face and the back of his neck. He pressed it against the electric fence for a few seconds. He held him there as the boy spazzed in pain, gesticulating his limbs. After five or so seconds, Tyron lifted his face and pulled him away.

The boy twitched, suffering from the effects of the electrocution, but otherwise still breathing. The metal grating had been burned unto his face and Tyron winced looking at it. He knew it wouldn't heal kindly.

Tyron noticed that the crowd had began to shout two different messages simultaneously. one of which being, " _Kill_! _Kill! Kill! Kill!..._ " and the other being. " _Two to in, one comes out!_ "

He didn't sound like both unsatisfied groups of people, and when it began to merge.

When it became known that he had no plans on killing the boy, the people began to complain loudly. They threw half eaten food and cold alcohol at him. Most of it hit the railing and sizzled, but some got on him. Tyron turned, disgusted, and kept the boy's body safe. He wouldn't let him die. Not here. He was too young.

" _If you don't kill him_ ," the announcer said, " _You don't get to_ leave."

"I ain't killin' _nobody_!" Tyron snapped, cradling his body to his chest.

The announcer didn't say anything else, but the crowd still complained and booed at him. Tyron didn't care. He wasn't here to be a puppet for their play. He was a _dog_.

The side doors opened and Tyron's eyes widened when he saw two men both holding huge guns. Tyron covered the body's body as much as he could. The two men fired at him. Combining their distance and the velocity of the bullet, made the impact burn white-hot with pain.

Tyron bit his lip hard enough that blood started to seep from it, and land in the boy's hair. They continued to shoot and he slowly continued to absorb the bullets.

It took both men at least five minutes until their ammo ran out. The room was semi-quiet, a few murmurs still running through the crowd.

The door behind the two men closed firmly. And they turned behind them, shocked. " _Whoever goes in the Ring, must fight,_ " the announcer reminded as Tyron rose. He picked up a bullet shell that had rolled over to him and popped it into his mouth. Although being shot wasn't his idea way to absorb metal, it was a necessary, in this instance.

He ignored the burning pain from his back, and slowly morphed his hand into a long, sharp knife. The audience noticed this and began screaming. The two men, albeit terrified, pulled out identical eight-inch knives. Tyron charged them, not caring when they swiped at his clothes uselessly.

He plunged his blade into the heart of one man, making him sputter, blood rising in his lungs, before he tipped over.

The other man held him around the neck, and tried to slit his throat. It didn't work, and only made the knife get smaller and smaller with every desperate attempt. He waited until all the man had left was a measly handle, and then turned around. And stabbed him as well.

He left the two men bleeding out on the floor, and went back to the boy, who had started to wake up, now. He looked startled and angry when Tyron approached him, but Tyron still held out his hands.

"M'not goin' to 'urt ya," he promised. The boy didn't believe it, going back to the wall. Tyron moved to sit down where he was, not going any closer. The boy noticed and stopped moving away. "We don' 'ave to fight," Tyron promised. The boy said nothing.

The door opened again, this time with dozens of men with identical guns. Tyron looked from him to the boy, who was now not protected at all. Tyron stood to run to the boy just as all the lights when out. He felt himself grab someone's hand. It was small and coarse. Tyron reached to where he assumed was behind the boy, and felt the giant wings.

"It's me, it's me," Tyron promised. Then, he heard gunshots. Tyron took the boy in his arms again. This time, the boy didn't complain. He was trembling with fear and covered his ears to block out the noises.

Tyron listened quietly. He heard saw lights flashing, but they were moving too fast for his eyes to see. He recognized the sound of its guns, though.

It was _Tony_. And, assuming Tony was here, then, the others had to be too.

Relief swept over him, but Tyron didn't move. He felt a few poorly guided bullets hit him in the side and some in the head, But he was fine. It hurt like hell, but he was fine.

Finally, the lights turned back on, and Tyron was able to see Tony and a few of the others. Tony was standing in the Ring with him, the men who once held menacing guns at his feet. Natasha was in the audience, with dozens of drunken men and a few women at her feet. Tyron knew Steve and maybe even Clint had to have been here as well.

"You have terrible picks in hangouts, kid," Tony said, semi-jokingly. He rolled his eyes.

Tyron laughed, and the boy he held trembled, still holding his ears. "'Ey," he said soothingly. "It's a'ight. We're safe now, don' worry." The boy said nothing and Tyron gently pried his palms from his ears. "We're fine," he repeated so he could hear him now. "We're safe."

The boy nodded slowly, backing away from Tyron. Natasha came from the stands, somehow finding a way to get to the Ring. Maybe there was a set of stairs around the side?

She ran into the Ring and forced Tyron to show her his back. " _Goddamn it, Tyron_!" She snapped, when she saw all the bullet holes, but no wounds.

Tyron knew what she was looking for and chuckled. "I told ya bullets don' 'urt me," Tyron shrugged.

She shook her head, then whispered, "Your bandages are loose." Tyron nodded. He could feel it. "Come on, then," she said louder.

"Who's the kid?" Tony asked, gestering to the small boy, who looked very small in all this. He was still shaking slightly.

Tyron went to him and tapped his knee. He looked up. Tyron noticed now that his once wild eyes, were now big and yellow. Tyron smiled sympathetically, offering his hand. The boy was hesitant, but he took it.

"Let's get out of here," Natasha said, as they began to walk out. Tony led them to an exit, where he saw a big car --- definitely Tony's. Steve was speaking with the police, but turned when they began to exit.

Steve caught Tyron's eyes and Tyron immediately recognized the relief. He wrapped everything up with the police men and made a beeline for Tyron. Before he knew it, Steve was crushing him in a tight hug. "Tyron! Don't ever do something like that again!" He ordered and Tyron laughed, a good smile spreading across his face.

Steve ran his hands down his back, as if to double check that he was alright. He was fine for a minute, until his fingers snagged on Tyron's bandages. His chest bandages.

Tyron pulled away immediately as Steve stared at what he was holding confused. Then he looked at Tyron, who was trying to hide how chest, but it was too late. Steve could see them through his shirt.

Steve's face was blank and Tyron began to panic. Last time this happened, last time he was this face, he was put through hell.

"You're... You're a _girl_?" Steve asked him.

"This... I... I can explain, I---"

"Why didn't you say anything?!" Steve snapped. Tyron felt sick. He couldn't do this, not here, not now. He saw Natasha get out of the car, speaking to Steve. "Tyron, why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell me?!"

Everything began to hit Tyron at once. He was scared and cold and exhausted and in pain. He felt exposed and terrified and sick and desperate. He knew he couldn't be here. He knew that if he stayed, he'd be in the same position that he was in with Baron. Tyron knew that he'd never be free again.

Tyron turned and ran. He heard Natasha call after him, and Steve, but Tyron didn't stop. He ran for several blocks, twisting and turning through the streets of Queens.

Tyron ran for what felt like forever. He ran until he saw the sunrise. Then, he stopped. He looked at the sun and its beauty and simplicity. Tyron turned to a musty alleyway full of dumpsters and rats. He climbed the rusty, old ladder to an apartment building. He went all the way to the top.

Tyron sat on the roof for hours, huddled there as he cried. The simple sun burned above him, but its warm rays felt cold against his skin.

Tyron sat for longer than even he knew, just thinking and sitting. He heard a familiar person land in the roof, and step over to him. "Hey..." Tony said. Tyron said nothing. "Look, kid... I... We don't think any different of you."

"Ya lyin'," Tyron called him out.

"Okay," he sighed, starting over again. "I, for one, am a bit hurt. Wish you told me sooner, but I don't care. Steve, is... More asshurt than me, honestly. He's a bit angry---" Tyron shuddered, turning away from Tony. He noticed and quickly began to try to amend this. "But, he's fine. He'll get over it. We'll get over it."

Tyron said nothing. Then, he sniffed and wiped his face. "What day is it?"

"Well, now it's Thursday." Tyron nearly choked.

"Thursday!?" He squeaked, moving to stand, but he was so exaushted. He nearly tripped over his one feet. He didn't have any bad injuries --- if you didn't include Michelle's knife wound and staying a day in a freezer. His back was still sore and Tyron hadn't actually slept in nearly a week. Not to mention, the most he ate was a bullet shell, which is like starving for a week and then eating one popped popcorn.

Tyron felt so exhausted. He needed to pick up some bandages, and he needed to prepare for Friday. One of his plans didn't work, though. He looked at Tony, who's gaze was fixed on the horizon.

"Why'd ya come for me?" Tyron asked softly. Tony turned to him, almost as if he had forgotten why he had been up there.

"You were in danger," he said. "We were watching in the crowd. You and that kid were going to die, or end up killing one another."

"But, now," Tyron sighed, running his hands down his face. "If Baron finds out tha's m'workin' wit' ya... 'E won' let 'is guys come Friday." Tyron covered his face and his puffy red eyes. With a voice that sounded very muffled, he said, "I told ya not to come!"

"You'd rather yourself be killed?" Tony scoffed. "I think the word you're looking for is 'thank you'."

Tyron looked up and the man, anger and frustration in his eyes. "No, the word m'lookin' for is stay outta this!" He said, pointing an angry finger in Tony's face. "Tomorrow s'the Riot. If Baron finds out that I know ya --- that ya have helped me --- then he's not gonna wanna do it. And it he doesn't do it, then nobody will and Lars and everyone like him will be forgotten. Every Mutant --- hell, even every Enchanced --- whose ever died unjustly will jus' be swept under the rug. Mutants like me, like the kid, will be considered Subhumans, maybe even slaves! And guess what!? Nobody will care! Nobody ever cares! They all just keep going --- they all don't know who lost their loves because they were different in a way that they can't help. That _we_ can't help! We'll... We'll be seen as dirt. As less than animals and nobody wants to do a single damn thing about it." Tyron was panting from his rant. His face felt flushed with anger and Tony just stared at him.

After nearly a minute, he spoke, "Is... Is this about Laurence, or Pietro?" Tyron stared at him, opening his mouth, but Tony kept talking. "I feel like, you want this to be about Laurence. Feeling unheard, angry, and against the system, you keep saying Laurence whenever you say that. But, you're angry and upset and hurt also because of Pietro too, aren't you?" Tyron stared at Tony, his jaw tightening. Tears free in his brown eyes and Tyron turned around so he didn't show it to Tony.

"I got work to do," he muttered, going for the ladder.

"You couldn't have done anything, Tyron," Tony tried to tell him. "It wasn't your fault. He was to far away. You couldn't do anything about that. You shouldn't---"

"Shut up!" Tyron finally screeched, his entire body trembling with anger. "Jus' shut up! Ya wront! Ya wrong! What's the use of mutation if ya can't even use it to save his life!? The one thing he needed and I couldn't get to him fast enough! I loved him, I loved him, an' now 'e's gone." Tyron sniffed, feeling the tears slip down his cheeks again. He didn't want to cry in front of Tony, especially about Pietro.

"It's okay," Tony said peacefully.

"S'not," he sniffed, rubbing his nose. "I jus'... 'E made me happy," he murmured. "Just as much as Chris did. I wanted if to be him. I wanted to love him, Tony. It wasn't fair. It wasn't."

"I know. I understand, Tyron, but all this --- rioting and destorying cities --- is this what he would've wanted?"

Tyron stared at the man. Then, he turned away. "I have to go," he murmured.

"Wait, Tyron," he reached out to grab his arm, but Tyron yanked it away.

"Don' touch me!" He snapped, and then his eyes widened, as if he were surprised by his own words. A second later, his glare returned and he turned again and ran.

Tyron did not look back.

 


	31. 31 - Be A Loner

**Chapter Thirty-One:**

  
Tyron walked for what felt like hours. He didn't know where he was going, he just knew that he couldn't go back to the Tower. He'd have to find some other way to get Baron to join his riot. Tony wasn't going to work. He needed a new plan, and only had a day to figure out what it was going to be.

Tyron ended up stopping at a corner, turning down an alley and jumping up on the fire escape. He needed to stop and think. Walking aimlessly would --- ironically --- get him nowhere.

Tyron closed his eyes and sighed. Immediately, Steve's words came back at him, " _You're a girl_!?" Tyron flinched slightly, inhaling and exhaling for a minute. That look of shock and horror seared itself into his mind's eye, and he'd never be able to forget it.

Tyron rubbed his face, trying to focus on other things. Like, for instance, the riot. What was he going to do _now_? Maybe Tony was right about this thing all along. Maybe he was just being stupid over Pietro.

" _Stupid over me_?" Tyron heard Pietro laugh, " _That is an understatement. Look at yourself, all this because you couldn't get over what I did?_ "

"S'not that," Tyron grumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

" _Then, what would you call it? You tell yourself this is for the greater good, but no good is being done! You are being selfish, Tyron._ "

"M--M'not bein' selfish! This is a real issue an' m'tryin' to help! I can't---this can't go on! Lars is dead 'cause this system ain't workin'!"

" _So you are going to destroy a city_?"

"... M'not---"

" _And what about the people affected? You know, you had excuses all the other times you were made to fight, and I understand those. That man forced you. But, this time, you do not have an excuse. This is all you. You have a choice now, and you need to choose_."

Tyron was silent, then he shook his head. "Ya don' understand. Ya aren't a _mutant_. Ya don' understand what it's like! One minute, ya human, the next, ya dad tries to shove a knife in ya gut an' ya don' die. They call us monsters, demons, abominations! All 'cause of somethin' we don' understand --- we didn't even ask for this shit!" Tyron breathed, closing his eyes. "Ya don' understand, ya aren't a mutant. Enhanced an' mutants aren't the same."

" _I do not believe that. I might have volunteered for this power, but I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I just wanted to be able to do sometbing. Our system was broken too and Strucker told my sister and I that we would be great. He promised us_." Pietro paused for a minute, " _You know, my hair was not always silver_."

Tyron froze and blinked, so Pietro continued. " _It changed when I changed. So did my sister's. Our hair was brown, but as soon as we touched the cube, it changed us --- on the outside, and on the inside. The people who knew us before thought we playing with the power of god, something that should not be trifled with. They casted us away, called us monsters like how they call you. Tell me, then, what the difference is between Enhanced and Mutants_?"

Tyron was quiet for several minutes, then he stood, and jumped down from the rusty stairwell. " _Where are you going_?"

"To get _away_ from Wanda," Tyron said bitterly. His chest swelled in absolute hatred and he began to run again.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Wanda stood on the other side of the brick wall, shocked. She turned to Natasha and Vision. "He knew it was me," she said, almost in a whisper. The only other person who knew that she had been tampering with their mind was _Pietro_.

Natasha huffed, muttering an obscenity in Russian. "I knew that was a bad idea," she grumbled. "Now, he's going to be even angrier."

"We could always use Steve's suggestion," Vision supplied, watching the two women. "He said to just bring him back to the Tower. If he is inciting a riot, then he could be arrested. It would be better if we ' _arrested_ ' him than if the authorities did."

Natasha sighed, "He'd hate us for it..."

"It's the only way," Vision said.

"Vision is right," Wanda agreed, "It would be better than the authorities."

Natasha sighed, "Even if we did, there's no way we could subdue him. He's impenetrable to bullets and needles. If we attack him, we'd have to get close enough to his face to put him down."

Wanda nodded, frowning, but Vision seemed thoughtful. "Well," he spoke up and they both turned to him. "There _is_ one way..."

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Tyron slipped into the corner store, glancing around for a package of bandages. He slipped some up his sleeve discreetly and then asked the owner if he could use the bathroom.

The man gave him a suspicious look --- probably dealing with things like that more than he would want to --- but nodded his head towards the back anyway.

Tyron locked the door and glanced around. There was a small window near the ceiling. He took off what was left of his jacket and haphazardly hung it over the window.

Tyron removed his shirt and winced at what he saw. He had wrapped up the knife wound Michelle gave him days ago, but it had bled threw and he didn't even notice. He unbandaged it, making faces as he saw the crusted blood and the not-fully-healed open wound. He poked it, dubbing it not that bad and rebandaged it with the new package.

Then, he looked at the other stab wound that he got in the bar. That wasn't shallow at all, and was already mostly healed. Tyron didn't bother to wrap it.

The rest of his body was just cuts and scraps from the boy he fought in the ring. He was glad it was just small cuts, though. If the kid had managed to open or make either of these wider, he would've probably been down and out.

Tyron shook his head, and took of the fairly new bandages --- he had must redid them on Monday --- and began rewrapping his chest.

With every movement, Tyron heard Steve and Baron and his parents. " _Get that shit out of your head! You're not a boy!"_

" _You're my bitch now_."

" _Why can't you be normal, huh? Just for a day, damn it_!"

" _Why didn't you say anything!? Tyron, why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell me_?!"

Tyron gritted his teeth, making the bandages extra tight.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Tyron hurried out of the store before the owner could suspect he'd stolen anything else. He hurried down the street, making his way to Brooklyn territory. It'd take him a while to get there, but as he walked, he could think of what he was going to tell Baron. Or, better yet, how he was going to get out of a beat down.

He needed someone or something of equal value or Tony Stark to steal --- or kidnap --- in order to please Baron. Unfortunately, not many of things like that even existed in this world, so he was pretty much out of luck.

Tyron made his way up the block. It was still fairly early, probably around noon. Everyone was heading to work or school, or neither. A few kids that were standing around a post glanced his way. He nodded at them and they nodded back before going back to their conversations.

Tyron decided to take a shortcut under the overpass. It was getting warmer and he needed a minute to think in the shade. Despite it being near November, the sun was still persistently sunny and it was a bit annoying.

Tyron breathed for a minutes, listening to the cars overhead and around him.

Then, someone came from behind him, and a rag was placed over his mouth and nose. Tyron panicked, twisting around and trying to move the hand that was trying to suffocate him. He held his breath as he kicked the intruder in the shin, making them grunt. The rag slipped away and Tyron breathed raggedy.

He glanced around, just looking for anyone else, and immediately someone hit him in the head. Tyron fell to his hands and feet, seeing double and feeling blood on the back of his head.

A foot drove into is stomach and Tyron choked, falling to his side. Hands fell down on him, searching his clothes and pockets. His attackers quickly realized that he had nothing of value on him. Immediately, they all came down, kicking him and spitting on him. A few got down to his level, and landed a good solid blows to his nose, lip, and jaw.

After Tyron felt like the pain would honestly never stop, he heard someone shout. Then, the intrusive hands were yanked away and replaced with gentler, yet more panicked ones. They were talking, but Tyron wasn't listening. He felt sick and yet he was also tired.

Tyron could feel his eye swelling and knew it was a bad sign. He saw his eyes roll back into his head and then everything was dark.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Tyron woke back up to a familiar beeping. He tried to open his eyes, but one of them refused, so he settled on the other.

Tyron could feel bandages all over his face and he winced whenever he accidently shifted it. He looked around, recognizing the stupidly expensive medical equipment anywhere.

Tyron laid back down, a headache forming. " _Are you awake, Mister Tyron_?" Tyron heard FRIDAY ask.

"... Mmm... Yeah... M'wake..." He murmured, closing his working eye. He felt really drowsy, for some reason, and a second later, he fell back asleep.

Then, he heard the door slide open, and Tony stepped through. "Hey, kid?" Tyron groaned, still tired, but he moved to look at him. Tony smirked, " _There_ we go."

"... Am I back at th' Tower?" He mumbled, but it was loud enough for Tony to hear.

"Yep. You got jumped by some guys. They said they were part of Zion's group, but They were just some goons. They must of recognized you and got the jump on you when you weren't looking."

Tyron didn't say anything. He turned away, and closed his eye. "You should be fine, mostly. Just bruising and stuff, but otherwise---"

"Don' let Steve in 'ere," Tyron said, and Tony looked at him, confused.

" _What_?"

"Don' let Steve in 'ere," he repeated, a bit louder. "I don' wanna see him."

" _Why_?" Tyron didn't answer. He just shook his head, which made the back of his head hurt. He realized his forehead was wrapped in bandages. He looked away as carefully as possible, staring at a monitor that had words he didn't understand on it.

Tony came to Tyron bed and sat at the end. He looked at Tyron curiously. "Steve really wants to see you. He wants to apologize."

"No, he don'," Tyron muttered. "Ya guys are makin' 'im 'pologize."

"Why do you think that?" Tony asked, but Tyron didn't answer. Tony sighed, "You're right. We explained who you are to him because back in his day and age, they didn't have ' _transgenders_ '. Well, no, they did, but they were usually regarded badly, probably as bad, if not worse, than black people in the 1940s. So, I admit, if I were in your position, Steve would probably be the last person I'd want to come out to. But, Steve is different than the normal _1940s-seregration-and-homophobia_ era. He's a lot more open-minded. If you give him a chance, I'm sure he'll understand."

Tyron shook his head, "I _can't_."

"Why not? I did not waste that great speech for you to decline it!" Tyron rolled his eyes, then he swallowed.

"It's not tha'," Tyron said, his voice hesitant. "I can't do tha'. I jus'... I can't."

"Why not? You know Steve, you've known him for the past six months! Steve isn't going to _do_ anything---"

"Ya don' know tha'!" Tyron snapped, making Tony go silent. Then, he swallowed, looking away.

"What do you _think_ he's going to do?" Tony asked.

"S'nothin'," Tyron muttered.

"It's definitely _not_ nothing. What do you think he's going to do to you?"

"It doesn't matter---"

"It _does_ matter. Tell me."

" _No_."

"Why not?"

"Ya won't understand."

"I think I will, actually. Just tell me what you think he'll do. This is Steve we're talking about. He won't even hurt a fly, so why are you so against him all of a sudden?"

"I _don_ ' want to talk about it," Tyron felt his voice shaking as memories creeped into his mind. His back slamming on the bed. Baron's hungry and yet angry look as he tore his clothes off him. Tyron's screams. His _useless_ screams.

He could feel himself beginning to panic, he tried to calm down, but Tony was still talking. "... Kid, I mean, come on. What's the worse Steve can do. He's _Steve_. If anything, he'll just stand around awkwardly. Or---" he cut himself off, noticing the heart-rate machine beeping frenzily.

He turned to Tyron who had his eyes shut tight. He could hear Baron in his head, feel his body on him. He whispered in his ears, which sent unpleasant chills down his spine. " _You're my bitch now."_ He said. Then, he chuckled when Tyron started to cry even harder.

"Stop it," he begged, "Please---I---Stop!"

"Tyron? Tyron, calm down, you're having another attack," Tony said, but his voice sounded distant. He wasn't in the room when Baron was here. He wasn't anywhere near him. He couldn't save Tyron, not this time, not ever.

Tyron remembered when Baron finished. He grinned at Tyron's battered body and turned to call the rest of his men in. He felt disgusting afterwards. He _was_ disgusting. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't do this anymore. He was a bad pet. A bad pet. Bad pet bad pet bad pet bad pet...

Tony yanked Tyron to a sitting position and his torso burned in pain. "C'mon, kid, I need you to calm down," Tony said, but Tyron couldn't listen anymore. He felt dazed, as if he were in another world. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't do this anymore. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Tony pulled Tyron to him, and he felt his arms wrap around him. Tyron stiffened, he didn't know what to do. This isn't right. What did he want from him? "It's okay," Tony breathed. "It's okay."

Tyron calmed down just a little, and began to breathe slower. Tony didn't let go of him until he was breathing regularly. Then, Tyron pulled away and laid back down. He closed his eye and looked away. "Is it really bad?" Tony asked after a minute. Tyron nodded shakily. "Would you tell Natasha?"

Tyron sniffed, "She already knows." Tony blinked, surprised. "She's the first one I came out to. Then, Bruce figured out."

"Then, tell me," Tony said. "I'm not going to do anything, I swear."

"I can't," Tyron insisted. "S.... S'not somethin' m'proud of..."

"How bad is it?"

" _Hella_." Tony huffed out a laugh.

"And, I won't understand at all?"

"... Ya weren't on m'end."

"Tyron..." Tony sighed, rubbing his face, as if it would make the stress go away. "I want you to feel safe here. I don't want you to feel like you have to wait for the other shoe to drop all the time. If something or someone is making you uncomfortable, then tell me. I want to help, I want you to feel _safe_."

Tyron swallowed, looking away. "Don' let 'em hear," he finally said.

"FRIDAY, turn off cameras and microphones in infirmary one," He ordered.

" _Right away,_ " the AI replied. He saw the small, red blinking camera go dark. Then, he turned to Tony. He didn't think he'd actually do it.

"Now, do you want to tell me?" Tony asked and Tyron looked down.

He breathed for a few seconds. "When... Baron found out that I was... Yeah... He raped me." Tony's eyes went wide and his mouth fell. Tyron looked away, already feeling his chest constrict as he continued. "Then, he let everyone else... ' _Have their turn_ '. An'... An' after tha', he used to rented m'out to people for th' night... Sometimes, entire _groups_ of people an' jus'..." Tyron couldn't speak anymore. He felt sick.

"... Oh, my _god_ ," Tony whispered, stunned.

"So..." Tyron cleared his throat. "When Steve reacted how he did. I... I immediately..." Tyron closed his eyes. "I was _scared_. I didn't know, I still don' know. I... I wanna believe y'all are great people, but... I... I don' think I can anymore... I can't do tha' anymore. I jus' can't. M'so _tired_."

"Tyron, I..." Tony didn't know what to say. None of his witty, spiteful comebacks flew to his lips. He wasn't expecting that.

"Ya don' have to say anythin'," Tyron promised when he saw Tony gaping like a fish for something to say. "I mean, when m'parents found out, they pretty much hated m'after that. M'dad already was pretty bad, but after I... He jus'..." Tyron shook his head. "M'mom thought she could _Jesus_ the boy outta me. Sometimes, I wish it worked. That way, when she died, at least I would be... At least I would've known tha' she still... Ya know..." Tyron didn't know his he would've said ' _loved me_ ' at the end of that sentence.

Tony stared at him, not saying a word and Tyron looked up, he chuckled at his shocked and saddened expression. "What's wit' tha' face?" He asked.

Tony couldn't say anything and Tyron gave a small smile. "S'okay. I understand." Tyron looked down, twisting his fingers in the hospital blanket. "Ya know, 'ey tell ya that after ya explain everythin' to someone, ya would feel a lot better? I don' feel tha'. I jus' feel tired. So much of this shit tha' happens is my fault. My parents wouldn't hate me if I wasn't a boy. My dad would've tried to kill m'if I jus' tried harder to help Chris. If I wasn't a mutant, I never would've met Baron. If I jus' told Baron I was a dumbass _girl_ who has daddy issues an' can't get it through her dumb head that maybe, _just maybe,_ ya doin' this wrong! Maybe Baron would've _raped_ me!" Tyron felt tears blur his eyes and his voice broke at the end of his sentence. He sniffed, rubbing his face.

"I don't even know why m'upset," Tyron shook his head. "This is all m'fault. I deserve this."

"You do not deserve _any_ of this," Tony said immediately. "You said it yourself, you couldn't do anything about being a _mutant_. And for being trans, well, you can't help what you _feel_. You didn't deserve all this to happen to you, and you certainly didn't cause your brother's death. Tyron, you need to stop burdening everything."

Tyron didn't say anything, so Tony continued. "Oh, and by the way, Nat told me what they did with Wanda and... Well... Let's just say I did not agree with that. That was crossing the line, Tyron." He inhaled and sighed, "So... To make it up to you... If you need my help for this... _Event_ tomorrow, I'm willing to offer it." Tyron blinked, stunned, then he smirked and chuckled dryly.

"Well, ya jus' in luck then," Tyron laughed. "I decided tha'... Maybe I was wrong. Maybe... We could jus'... Peacefully assemble? An', if ya could fund that, I'd be great."

Tony blinked at him, "What about Baron and everyone else?"

"I'll take care of him, don' worry. 'Sides, m'getting th' feelin' tha' he's been losin' support from his followers."

"What makes you think that?" Tony asked.

"I went to the 'Yard on Monday." Tony's eyes went wide and he started to say something, but Tyron cut him off. "There's a lot less people there. I dunno, maybe he got in a fight an' lost, or people are ditchin' him, but it's already pretty known that Baron treats mutants like shit --- a bit better than Zion, but still. Maybe wit' all this happenin', 'ey finally decided enough is enough?"

"You should be going there alone," Tony finally scolded him, and Tyron frowned a bit.

"I didn't want to, but I needed to talk to him. Besides, nothin' happened, so m'good," he rolled his shoulders and rubbed his eyes. "Anyways, s'the offer of ya funding a ' _peaceful assembly_ ' still on th' table?"

Tony chuckled, "Course, kid." Tyron grinned, and then Tony rose an eyebrow, remembering something. "Wait, what about that girl from your school? The one that threatened you?"

"M'gonna talk to her too, don' worry," and Tyron would. After spending a lot of mind-numbingly boring hours in a freezer, and walking for hours alone and frustrated, he realized his solution for Michelle.

"So, everything is fine?" Tony asked and Tyron frowned a bit.

"No. Everything isn't fine," Tyron said, but gave Tony a small smile. "But, things are gettin' a little better."


	32. 32 - Be A Snitch

**Chapter Thirty-Two:**

Michelle had been tense all day long. Today was the day, she supposed. She told him that today was the deadline or else she'd tell everyone who and what he was.

She tapped her foot on the tile floor of the classroom, staring at nothing. Mr. Rampent was droning on at the front of the classroom, and everyone was either on their phones or asleep. He always had that voice that just put people to sleep, and even Michelle could feel herself slipping away.

Michelle shook it off and began to doodle in her notebook, trying to get her mind of the mutant. What would she be eating today in lunch? She wondered, was the test for AP World History today or next Monday? She'd study during lunch anyway, if she was wrong.

Michelle sighed, she was never stressed, not like this, and not over a boy! Of course, her worries were probably more... Socially unaccepted as they usual ' _boy problems_ ' go. Other girls don't worry if someone mutant will slit their throats with their goddamn hand as they are walking home, right?

Michelle sighed again, staring to tap her foot and draw. This was unhealthy, to worry about this so much. She was never like this and it would be easier to just forget it and focus on school --- of course, those were the same words every other student her age told themselves as they sank further and further into depression and anxiety. But, this time, Michelle decided she was going to be like every other person. She was going to be normal for a day.

And, she quietly hoped she would still be alive by the time she got home.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

" _Hey_." Michelle nearly jumped as she turned around, eyes wide. When she saw who it was, she nearly shouted. "Chill out, will ya," Tyron huffed, "M'not goin' to stab ya in broad daylight."

"Then why are you here, _Mutie_?" Michelle snapped, eyes set in a ferocious glare.

Tyron's eyebrow flinched at the word, but didn't get upset, "I jus' wanna talk, is tha' alright?"

"You want me to keep my mouth shut?"

"I want ya to listen, if it's possible." Now, he sounded a bit annoyed. Michelle did, and Tyron continued, "Ya can tell whoever ya want about me," He began and Michelle rose an eyebrow. "Look, m'here to talk, alright―"

"Then _talk_ ," Michelle hissed. "Or are you just stalling or something else?"

Tyron sighed through his teeth, "Would you just listen to me, just for a second?" He said, his tone on a hint of a beg. Michelle narrowed her eyes at him, "Your friend, I can't remember her―"

"Then why the _hell_ are you here?!" Michelle snapped.

"I'd tell ya, if ya would stop cuttin' m'off, god dammit!" Tyron finally said, throwing his hands in the air.

"Say what you have to say," Michelle hissed, "And hurry up, I don't want to be seen with a Mutie." He grinded his teeth, but took his chance.

"Everything that I did back then, I couldn't help it," Tyron began to say and Michelle scoffed. "Baron _made_ me. All those times, he _made_ me."

"You _always_ have a choice. You chose to kill her."

"Ya have never met 'im then, have ya?" Tyron said bitterly. "I did wha' I had to do to survive. If I. . . no. . . m'not goin' to start with that again. M'sorry, Michelle," Michelle rolled her eyes, turning away. "Whatever I did to ya an' her, m'sorry. But, believe me when I say tha' killin' her was a much better than what Baron would've done."

"How do _you_ know!?" Michelle yelled, making a few people near them turn and look at her. " _Huh_!? You didn't even give her a _chance_!"

"Quiet down," he hissed, looking away, but Michelle was upset now.

"But, you just had to, didn't you? Were you thinking about her or about _yourself_?!" Tyron pushed Michelle into the alley between two buildings. She stumbled and tripped over a box. Tyron caught her arm before she could fall down completely. Then he spun her around and hid under a fire escape.

Michelle's heart was pounding as she stared at the boy who was just looking at her, waiting. "What are you going to do to me?" She asked, trying not to let the fear into her voice. She was _stronger_ than this, damn it!

" _Nothin_ '," Tyron said, "Ya were jus' causin' a scene, an' I didn't want people askin' questions," He admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "Can I finish talkin' now, or are ya jus' gonna keep cuttin' m'off?"

Michelle crossed her arms and stood up straighter. "I said to hurry up." Tyron pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, but continued to talk.

"M'orders were to bring back the kids," Tyron continued, leaning against the rusty ladder, and Michelle furrowed her thick eyebrows. "His exact words were ' _bring the cute ones_ '."

" _So_?" Tyron stared at her, as if she were the one speaking nonsense. Why was she even talking to a Mutie like him still? Why hasn't she called the _police_ yet?

"Baron wanted to stimulate kids in order to trigger a mutation," Tyron explained. "If 'ey didn't mutate, he sold 'em."

"' _Sold them_ '?" Then, it struck her, and Michelle felt sick. "He. . . you. . ."

"That's why I killed her," Tyron looked away, his eyes looking into nothing. "If I let her live, she'd hate me. If I let any of 'em live. . . I would be worse than Baron."

"Why would you work for someone like that?" Michelle asked, now angry again. Tyron turned back, as if remembering that she was still there.

"Ya think I wanted to?" He scoffed, "Every time I killed them, _I_ was punished. _Every time._ "

"What could he have done to you that could be that bad?" Tyron inhaled and looked away. "You're making excuses. Just like Muties, huh? You think you have all this power until you don't and look at where that got you. You haven't changed at all, have you?" Michelle looked him up and down and then scoffed, "I'll take you up on that offer, by the way. I'll tell the entire school that you're a murderer _and_ a mutie. See how they take that. Baron will have your ass in _seconds_ , and I guess you'll be back where you started, huh? Killing _children_? That is, if the police don't get to you first. That bill is going to be passed, and you'll be locked away, like the _dog_ you are." Michelle turned to leave, but Tyron grabbed her arm, stopping her.

" _What_?!" She snapped, spinning around at him. Tyron wasn't looking at her. He glanced up at a window on the building across the street. Michelle turned too, but nobody was there.

"He would shoot me," Tyron said. His voice was brittle and he wasn't looking her in the eyes. Michelle stared at him, he didn't sound like he was done. "An'. . . An' then he found out I was a girl. . . So he raped me." Michelle stared at him ― _her_? ― in shock. "I killed 'em because I couldn't live with myself if I was the reason they lived a life worse than death. Ya _right_ , Michelle. I could've let ya friend live, but if I did, she wouldn't be ya friend anymore. Ya wouldn't even _recognize_ her. She'd just be a shell ― an echo of who she used to be. An' m'sorry for wha' I did to 'er. M'sorry I killed 'er, but the alternative would've been much worse than what happened to 'er. I want to think I was bein' merciful to 'er, but. . . I think the better thin' to do would be to kill m'self instead. I dunno wha' would've changed, maybe nothin'. Maybe Baron would've found someone else to do it, I dunno. But, m'sorry. I really am."

Michelle stared at Tyron ― was that even his name? Tears were running down his face, but he turned away and wiped at his face. " _Goddamn_ ," he murmured.

"I. . ." Michelle stammered. She never thought it was this serious. Well, she knew what she was getting into the minute she tried to stab him, but she never thought that he was a _victim_. Sure, she assumed he was ' _roughed up',_ but _this_. . . this was more than she asked for.

"So, yeah," Tyron said with a small sniff. "Ya can go tell everyone, if ya want. I guess it's wha' I deserve at this point, right? I wouldn't care. M'jus' tired." Michelle turned to leave the alleyway. She had everything she needed now. His confession would be proven if they took a mutant test and she would finally have her revenge.

Before she left, Tyron said one last thing, "When I die, Michelle, I'll tell Rosie-Marie ya said hey." Michelle's head whipped around, her eyes wide.

"You. . . you _remember_. . .? How? I―?"

"She never said her name when I went in the room with you two," Tyron said, "Her mother begged for her. ' _Rosie-Marie_ '. She kept saying it over and over. Sometimes, I can't get it out of m'head. . ."

Michelle swallowed, stepping away. "That. . . I don't care about that anymore. You're still mutie _trash_!" Tyron winced but didn't say anything. "I'm gonna tell _everyone_ about you. You're a murderer and everyone will know."

Tyron looked at the litter at his feet, "Yeah. . . I know." He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked towards Michelle to go out on the street. "Bye, Michelle." Then, he walked away.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron turned the corner a couple of block away from the school, just as Steve met him. Tyron stepped back, surprised for a minute before walking around him. " _Tyron_!" Steve called after him, but he kept his head down, not looking at the man. "Tyron, I didn't know," Steve said, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back. Tyron yanked it away and held his hand to Steve's neck. It was as sharp as a knife.

Steve took a step back as Tyron turned around and continue to walk, this time a little faster. "Tyron, please, can we just talk for a second," Steve begged.

"There really isn't anythin' to talk about," Tyron grumbled.

"I saw you. You looked at _me_ before you told her," Steve said.

"That doesn't mean anything," He hissed as he turned to enter the stairs leading to the subway.

"It _does_ ," Steve insisted. It was a pretty crowded due to rush hour, but Tyron made his way through the crowd with ease. Tyron dug through his pants pockets to find his card. "Tyron, can we please _talk_? I'm sorry I reacted the way I did, but―"

"But, _nothing_ ," Tyron snapped, glaring at him. Steve saw the hurt and raw emotion in his eyes for a fleeting second before Tyron turned away and kept his eyes on the ground. "S'nothin'. I don' care anymore."

"I don't care who ― what you are, Tyron," Steve said. "I want you to know that, alright?"

"Yeah. . ." Tyron murmured, not sounding sure.

"Hey," Steve pushed him in the shoulder. "I'm serious. I don't care what you are. You'll still be that punk kid I found in the alley, alright?" Tyron made a scoffing sound that almost sounded like a laugh. He checked his pockets and finally found the card he was looking for. "I can take you home, you know," Steve reminded.

"No thanks," Tyron murmured. "I'll take the sub." Steve smiled and stepped away from him.

"I'll see you at the Tower," He promised and Tyron hesitated, but nodded.

"Yeah. I'll see ya then." He said, then hurried to leave before he missed his train.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Baron sat in his office, silently smoking and leaning back in his chair. Then, the door opened suddenly, sending a burst of chilly air into the room. Baron didn't look up to acknowledge the person who showed up to his office unannounced. He'd kill them in a few minutes.

"It is customary to _knock_ ," He growled loud enough for them to hear.

"M'bad." Baron turned to stare at the stranger. It was the mutant faggot. Baron laughed loudly and turned back to smoking.

"You're back," Baron noted, annoyed.

"We need to talk," he said simply.

"About your little ' _riot'_ ," Baron chuckled. "I don't see Tony Stark anywhere."

"He'll be here," Tyron said leaning against the wall. Baron smirked and reached out with his mutation. He stood up straight immediately, setting his jaw. His arm was silver and his fingers claws. " _Get out_!" He snapped.

"What are you _planning_?" Baron wondered, as he funneled his memories. He saw Tony Stark, but he wasn't in any state that was submissive to him. Then, he saw it. He was working with him. He was planning on getting Baron arrested.

Baron stood immediately, his gun in his hand and pointed at him.

Tyron was on his knees, wheezing and clutching his head. Baron shot at him, right in the shoulder blades and he let out a scream. "You're a traitor, boy! And a fool!"

Baron came over and kicked him in the face. Tyron grunted, curling away from the man cradling his body. "Your petty plan won't work. I don't keep the drugs _here_ ," Baron shot him twice again. Tyron let out another scream that was choked in his throat when Baron slammed his foot down on Tyron's head.

His face slammed into the ground and Baron heard a satisfying crack of his nose. Baron reached down and yanked him up by the collar of his shirt, Tyron groaned, trying to squirm away, but Baron pressed his gun to Tyron's gut and pulled the trigger again. Tyron screamed, his hands holding his stomach as he went limp, trembling with pain.

Baron looked down at Tyron and sneered, "How do you think it would be even remotely possible for you to take me down if you are like this?" Baron grabbed his skull and slammed it to the concrete. Tyron went still for several seconds as Baron raised his face back up, silvery blood dripped from it and his eyes were closed. "Maybe, you can make up for it, huh?" Baron whispered and the boy shuddered at his deep voice. His eyes widened in absolute terror and he went completely still. "Using you again would make income skyrocket, wouldn't it? People have missed their little doll, including me."

" _Stop_ ," Tyron said in what sounded like the mix between a frown and a hiss. Baron had his hands with held together with one hand. He could feel the boy beginning to panic, squirming and breathing raggedly and felt himself get hard, a devilish from slipping on his lips. Baron let out a mean chuckle, his free hand raising Tyron's sweater, revealing bare, bruised brown skin. His fingers grazing the bandages the boy kept on his chest, his finger digging into them and Tyron let out an involuntary gasp, tensing up.

"You're going to have to do more than whine, boy," Baron tsked as he began to tear his hoodie at the seams. "Scream for me, will you?"

" _Baron_ ," A voice boomed from outside the building. Baron dropped his hands and Tyron. The boy barely had time to hold out his arms before he hit the floor again. " _We have the building surrounded! Come out with your hands up._ "

Baron's eyes went wild and he glanced down at Tyron, who was smirking as he spat out a bit of blood. " _Gotcha_ ," He whispered.

" _You have sixty seconds or we will enter the compound. Come out with your hands raised,_ " The voice ordered again. " _Sixty! Fifty-nine! Fifty-eight! Fifty-seven!..._ "

" _No_!" Baron roared, pulling out his gun. Tyron leapt to his feet, grabbing the end as Baron squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit his hand and he inhaled, but he continued to absorb the gun until there was nothing but gunpowder dust left in his hand.

" _Thirty-one! Thirty!..._ "

" _No_!!" Baron screamed realizing he was running out of time. His fist landed in Tyron's stomach making the boy groan and double over. He went again, aiming for his face, but this time Tyron dropped and rolled to the side. He got back up and glanced at the door. Baron saw just as Tyron made a lunge for it.

Tyron made it to the door first, but didn't have time to open it. Baron slammed his entire weight into the door, keeping it closed.

" _Fifteen! Fourteen! Thirteen!..._ "

" _S'over_ Baron," Tyron growled at the man, but he wasn't done. His dark brown eyes were full of fury and rage. His hand went out, and slammed Tyron's face against the door. Tyron stumbled back and Baron kicked him to the floor. The back of his head hit the ground and Baron was on top of him a second later. Baron began beating the boy with his fists. Blow after blow, Tyron took until his face was bloody and bruised.

He heard the door being blown off its hinges and then men hurried in. They shot at Baron and electricity filled his veins. Baron fell, convulsing on the ground. He glanced over at Tyron one last time to see he was in the same state as Baron was.

Baron smirked before he closed his eyes and two men dragged him out of the building.


	33. 33 - Be A Lover

**Chapter Thirty-Three:**

Tyron stared at his clenched fist, his foot tapping rapidly on the ground. Blood dripped from a cut on his cheek and his eye was swollen shut. At least one woman was nice to him and offered him a makeshift ice pack as he waited in the jail cell bitterly.

He heard footsteps and then someone coming his direction. Tyron looked up out of curiousity, and then jumped to his feet, surprised.

Tony was coming his way, hands in his pockets and glasses over his eyes that made him look like a slight douchebag, but Tyron didn’t mention that. “I should leave you here, you know,” Tony said as the officer grabbed a key off a hook and pulled the door open. It was a bit retro, but he prefered that to a high-security prison.

“But ya didn’t,” Tyron said, as he made his way out of the small cell.

“I told you not to go there alone!” Tony snapped at him, “We had a plan.”

“Me goin’ alone was the plan,” Tyron’s eyes narrowed. “Look, I’ll explain it later―”

“You’ll explain it now, if you want to go home,” Tony snapped. Tyron sent a wary glance at the police officer, who rose and eyebrow at him, unwavering. Tony noticed and gritted his teeth. “Fine,” He grumbled and turned to leave the station.

Tyron followed dutifully and saw as a young boy came behind them to Tony’s side. It took him a few seconds to realize who it was. “‘Ey,” Tyron said and the boy stopped and turned to the him, “Ya tha’ kid from th’ Ring,” he said, almost forgetting that he protected the boy.

“He’s a long story too,” Tony said as the boy turned back around, not saying a word. They stepped out into the chilly night ― the seasons were changing and they were bound to see snow soon. Happy was in the car, but he stepped out and opened the door for them as they came near it.

The boy slipped into the front seat with Happy, who didn't complain at all as Tony and Tyron moved to the back. The barrier between the two seats provided minimal privacy, but that was enough for him.

“Tell me why you couldn’t wait for me ― or better yet, call me ― before you ran off to play hero,” Tony demanded, angrier than Tyron’s ever seen him.

“Baron’s mutation s'to absorb memories,” Tyron said simply, a little bit unhinged by his anger. The ice pack he held to his was melting quickly. “I only told ya ‘bout ‘im ‘cause I knew a soon as he saw th’ memory, he’d flip.” 

" _Tyron_ \---"

"I _had_ to, Tony," Tyron said. "'E's gone now. I had to do it."

"You could've been killed," Tony said.

" _An'_!?" Tyron looked back at him, desperation in his eyes. "So _wha_ '?" Tony stared, his brown eyes softening.

"What do you mean ' _so what_ '? You could have _died_ , Tyron. Don't you understand that? That man---"

"He's already killed me," Tyron said, turning away. "I don' care 'bout tha' anymore. I needed to see 'im locked away. I needed 'im gone."

"Tyron, we could have helped," Tony said.

"Ya couldn't 'ave done anythin'," Tyron snapped, getting angry. "I 'ad to stop 'im. An', if y'all got 'urt 'cause I was bein' a dumbass---"

"Tyron, you don't have to worry about us like that," Tony said. "We can handle ourselves."

"It was m'fight," Tyron said. "He raped _me_."

"I know he did," Tony said, a little more gently. "But, you have to think a little more of yourself. Tyron---"

"It don' matter anyway," Tyron said, moving to look out the window as Happy slowly made his way through New York traffic.

"I want you to see someone," Tony finally said. Tyron glanced at him and then scoffed.

" _Hell_ no," he said, turning away.

"Tyron, you aren't in a good state of mind," Tony said. "Being able to talk to someone, it'll help."

"I can't, Tony," Tyron said, shaking his head. "If anyone finds out m'a mutant, or worse wha' I've done, I'll be killed."

"You were under duress. You had no choice. You're the victim here, you were forced to do all that."

"I am a _mutant!_ " Tyron said in simple terms. "It doesn't _matter_! None of tha' matters! I snitched on Baron an' now he's gonna have the Feds on me, an' I don'..." Tyron turned away, inhaling for a moment.

"I know you're upset," Tony said gently. "But this is what I mean. We can find you someone who you can talk to that won't run their mouths. I just don't want you in this kind of mental state, alright?"

Tyron didn't say anything for a few seconds.  Tony was starting to take this as an agreement before Tyron said something, "I don' want 'em to know m'name," He said.

"What?" Tony blinked.

"Th' shrink. I don' want 'em to know m'name."

"Okay... We can do that." Tyron nodded and leaned his head against the window pane. "Hey," he turned to Tony who was watching him carefully. "You know, I am a little proud of you."

" _Really_?" Tyron didn't sound convinced.

"Yeah. You faced your greatest fear by yourself," Tony shrugged. "I mean, I _wish_ you would've called me, but you did it. I'm proud of you."

Tyron didn't say anything for a minute. "He almost did it again," he said, his voice practically a whisper. His hands were clutching the sides of his sweater, his nails digging into the cloth. Tony could see them trembling slightly, but didn't say anything about it. "I was... He 'ad m'an'--an' I..." Tyron couldn't finish his sentence. He felt sick. He could remember the events playing out in his head.

" _Scream for me, will you?_ " Baron whispered, sending shudders through his body again.

"Tyron, you don't..." Tony started to say, but didn't finish.

"I began to panic, I... I was fifteen an' back on 'is bed again an' he was pullin' off 'is pants an' I..." Tears filled his eyes and he squeezed them shut, desperately trying to keep them off his face. "I was _scared_ ," he finally admitted. "I was scared he'd rape m'again an' I couldn't... I was so _scared_."

"I understand," Tony said quietly, as Tyron began to shake from sobbing. His eyes squeezed shut tight he clenched his arms. Tony watched him pitifully, but didn't say anything else. He knew the Tyron was absolutely terrifed of Baron, especially after what he was subjected to for the past few years. Returning to the place where he was abused couldn't have been easy, and almost being raped again must have really sent him off.

Tony reminded himself that Tyron was only a kid. He was an avenger, but he was a still a teenager. He's suffered through things Tony could only imagine.

"God," Tyron muttered, trying to calm himself down. "M'bein' stupid 'gain." He sniffed, rubbing at his still swollen eye.

"You're not being stupid for being scared," Tony told him, "And especially not for crying. Boys can cry too, Tyron." Tyron sniffed again and smiled at Tony.

"Thanks," he whispered. "S'been a long week."

"I'm sure," Tony said. "Did you and Steve make up, yet?"

Tyron grimaced, "We're... Gettin' 'ere," he said. "It'll take us a bit, but we will. I jus'... Gotta get over some shit."

"Like what?"

"His reaction," Tyron admitted. "Tha's wha' really s'messin' m'up. I... I couldn't." Tyron sighed, leaning his head back, and then winced. He sent a hand to the back of his head and his fingers came back sticky with silver blood.

Tony noticed and immediately decided to freak out. "You're bleeding!"

"S'nothin'," he lied. He probably had a minor concussion, he had been feeling a little dizzy for the past hour or so. Tyron turned, seeing the blood on the back of the cushion.

"That is _not_ nothing!" Tony snapped, "Turn around."

"Ya don'---"

"Don't make me repeat myself," he warned, and Tyron sighed, turning for him. Tony grimaced. "Happy," Happy rolled the partition down some to hear him. "Take us to the ER."

" _No_!!" Tyron nearly screamed, turning arlund. He jumped so high the top of his head hit the roof. " _No_!" He repeated himself, more seriously. "We're not goin' to th' hospital."

"Tyrin, you have a _concussion_ \---"

"I have _silver blood_!" He snapped. "If we go to th' hospital, they'd know m'a mutant an' they'll test me!"

"What's wrong with that?" Tony asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"If they 'ave m'on record they can list m'as ' _Subhuman_ '," Tyron explained. The term ' _Subhuman_ ' made his gut twist, as if he just swore in front of his mother. "An' if they decide m'too dangerous, they'll kill me."

"They won't kill you," Tony frowned.

"They _will_ ," Tyron insisted. "If 'ey decide ya too dangerous for society an' ya don' got th' money to be stuck in jail, 'ey kill ya."

"Tyron---"

"Ya take m'to _any_ hospital, I will jump outta this car m'self," Tyron's voice was fierce and unwavering. He might have agreed to the ' _Shrink_ ' but he was not going to be allowed to be practically murdered for a stupid reason.

" _Fine_ ," Tony sighed, and Happy turned on his blinker, signally back to the main road. "But if you die between here and the Tower...!"

"Let m'die," Tyron said. "At least I'll finally be able to go to sleep." Tony rolled his eyes and Tyron closed his, inhaling deeply. It has been a long week, but it was finally over.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Tyron laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. He was tired beyond imagine. Since he refused to go to the hospital, Natasha insisted on patching him herself. He was too tired to argue, but now that he was lying down, ready to sleep... He couldn't find it.

Tyron groaned and covered his eyes with his palms. There was a knocking at his door and he sat up a bit --- but not too much, his torso was beginning to feel sore from his run in with Baron and after being jumped.

Tyron had expected Natasha or Steve or Tony to enter his room, hell, he even the kid he rescued from the pit. Tony had made arrangements for him to live on Tyron's floor, which he definitely didn't mind. He was getting a bit lonely after all.

However, when Wanda opened the door, he gaped at her. "Wanda," he said, and then looked around at the mess that was his room. He hadn't had the chance to clean it. "I... Wha' are ya doin' 'ere?"

"I wanted to talk," she said, moving to sit down at his desk chair. Tyron watched her as she stared at her palms for a moment. Her vivid red hair seemed a bit darker and unkempt, now that he looked at her, and his pale complexion was even more... Gauntly looking. She had heavy bags under her eyes and her hands twisted her long fingers. Her cheeks were flushed red and her face that had once sported a few freckles seemed to dim and fade away.

The longer Tyron stared at her, the more he saw Pietro. The almond eyes and wrinkles from smiling. He remembered the glint of mischief that used to make his stomach feel full of butterflies. Now, it just made his stomach twist and his eyes turn back to the floor.

"What I did was... Nothing I expect you to forgive me for," Wanda began slowly. Tyron hadn't say anything. "It was low of me to use Pietro against you. It was wrong and I went too far to bring you home. I..."

"Don' worry, Wanda," Tyron told her softly. "I mean, yeah, m'pissed as hell, but... I'll get over it."

Wanda blinked at him, surprised, "I... But I..."

"I don't hate ya, Wanda," Tyron smiled at her. "Ya remind m'of him a lot," Wanda stiffened at the mention of her twin.

"I don't know how he fell in love with you," Wanda admitted, and Tyron's eyes dropped to the blankets before him. He had been wondering that too. Pietro was kind and selfless and a bit arrogant, but it didn't matter to Tyron. He had only known him for a week, and yet... The twist in his stomach when he recalled his first love was undeniable.

"I dunno either," Tyron replied honestly. Pietro had known that he'd done terrible, awful things. He knew that he was also subject to a lot of bad things as well. Tyron's life had basically been one huge fuck up. He felt like a stain on Pietro's purity and yet he still accepted him with open arms. "I was a terrible person --- I _am_ a terrible person. Like ya said, I've... I've done unforgiveable thin's, an' yet he..."

Wanda nodded, she didn't need to read his mind to understand what he was saying. "Sometimes, it's like a hole left in my heart," she said softly. "And, sometimes, I forget that it's there, and then I trip and fall right into it."

"Me too," Tyron agreed. "I feel like I've been left out. I mean. I only got a week wit' him, but it felt like years."

"I feel the opposite," Wanda said. "My years feel like weeks. Like, I've taken it all for granted."

Tyron couldn't do anything but agree. This was the only other person in the world who understood Pietro as intimately as he did. Of course, he didn't dare claim to know more than Wanda, but for the first time in a few weeks since he... Left, Tyron felt as if he were mending. It was small and just a little, but the effort was there.

Wanda smiled at him, and Tyron wondered if she felt the same way. He silently hoped she did.

She stood silently, "I don't want to overstay my welcome. You're supposed to be resting anyway. Thank you, Tyron."

"Yeah, you too," Tyron said with a small wave as she turned to leave the room. He laid back, his eyes staring back at the ceiling.


	34. 34 - Be An Experiment

**Chapter Thirty-Four:**

Tyron was in his room when he heard the news. He was on his bed, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling. There was a knock at his door, and Tyron sat up immediately. "I―Uh. . .. give me a second!" He quickly threw his sweatshirt over him. He didn't have his bandages on, it hurt his chest wounds, so he was trying to keep them off if he could help it.

"Okay. . . come in," he said, pulling his sweatshirt down as the door knob twist and TOny stepped in. He was looking pretty grim, and Tyron rose an eyebrow, frowning. "Wha' happened? Did someone die?"

"You. . . should probably sit down," Tony said, motioning to the bed. Tyron did, and Tony took in a deep breath. "The bill was passed thirty minutes ago." Tyron blinked, frowning.

"Wha' bill?" He asked, confused. Then, he remembered and his eyes widened. He stood abruptly, but Tony held out a hand to him.

"Sit down, I'm not done," He said, and Tyron uneasily did so. "It was sent back a few times and discussed over. . . but they decided. Mutants will be regarded as 'Subhumans', and any mutant over the age of eighteen will have their mutation tested. If they are decided to be. . . dangerous, they will be detained. If the mutation isn't dangerous, then you are able to live freely as a registered 'Subhuman', or. . . you can apply for a temporary cure."

Tyron sat up, confused, "A--A wha'?" He's never heard of a cure for the X-Gene.

"Some Professor thought it up," Tony waved his hand, as if that wasn't important. "Basically, it's something that suppresses the x-gene, allowing you to pass as a human. It's different for every case, and it hasn't been properly tested yet, but―"

"Does it work!?" Tyron asked, staring at Tony.

"It might not. They're trying to mass produce it, and then sell it to mutants for an unnecessarily high price, but―"

"You got it?"

"Of course I got it," Tony smirked, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, orange, pharmacy bottle. Tyron couldn't read the label, it was facing away from him. Tyron felt something swell in his chest, and his eyes went wide. "Now, look, I don't exactly know what this will do to you, okay? You can't have food, so I don't think you can take medicines either, but. . ."

"I have to try, Tony," Tyron begged, looking at the man. Tyron didn't know why, but the first thought that came to mind when he imagined taking the pills and being normal again, he thought his father would be able to accept him.

He shook the thought out of his head and focused on Tony. He handed Tyron the bottle, "Let me grab a water bottle, don't take any yet, alright?" Tyron was barely able to nod. Tony stood and left his room. A minute later, he came back with a bottle of ice-cold water. Tyron opened the bottle of water and took the pills, only two.

A moment of trepidation passed through both of them, and Tyron frowned. "Did it work?" Tony asked.

"I don't know," Tyron admitted. He leaned back, staring at the medicine container.

"Well. . . in the meantime, the preparations for the rally is almost ready," Tony said, changing the subject. Tyron had been thinking a lot about the mutant rights rally. "A lot more people responded than I thought they would."

"How s'th' company doin'?" Tyron asked hesitantly. Tony shrugged, unaffected, but he knew it had to be bad.

"People will talk shit all day," Tony said, "A few have cut ties, but we'll live. We're going to do this rally, no matter what people might say."

Tyron nodded, but he couldn't help but feel slightly worried. Tony stood. "I have to go. If you feel anything, tell me, or FRIDAY, alright? And, I mean anything, Tyron."

Tyron nodded and smiled, "I understand, I get it," He assured and shooed the man out of his room. He laid back down on his bed and closed his eyes, silently begging for this cure to work.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron was lying in bed, going over a book for his math class when he felt it. It was like a tug near his navel. At first, he frowned, and shrugged it off.

Then, it felt like his stomach was turning itself out. Tyron let out a cry of pain, dropping his math book and curling away. The pain didn't end. It was far worse than any cramps he had ever felt. Tears bit as his eyes and he wheezed, squeezing them shut tight, trying desperately to be rid of the pain.

"Mister Tyron?" FRIDAY asked, "Are you alright?"

Tyron let out a whine, breathing sharply. He saw dark spots on his vision. "C--Call. . . Uhnn. . . Tony. . . Call Tony! Call―" he cut himself off with a scream, the pain increasing and his back arching, a sob scraping past his lips.

His door opened, and Tyron squinted at who stepped through. It was Rashaad, the boy Tyron found. He found that name for him. He wished Rashaad didn't have to see him like this.

The boy tilted his head, confused, but Tyron couldn't talk. His mind was reeling and the pain was indiscriminate. His vision blurred and his eyes rolled back in his head.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Tyron woke up in the Infirmary. His entire body was sweating and he felt very tired. As soon as his eyes opened, someone was beside him. "You're awake! Thank goodness!" Tyron's eyes slowly shifted to the person. It was Tony, and he had a small strip of metal in Tyron's face. Instinctively, he opened his mouth, but as soon as his teeth made contact, they didn't begin grinding the metal down like he used to. It just tasted weird and wrong.

Tyron groaned, raising a hand that was covered in wires hooking him to machines. He took the metal from Tony and tried to eat again, shoving it in his throat. It wasn't working. Why wasn't it working?

Tyron began to panic, and his eyes widening, but Tony didn't look at all upset. "Here," He said, and turned away. He came back with a cold piece of bread. Immediately, Tyron turned away, he couldn't eat food! But, his stomach growled despite that. "Just try it. Alright?" Tyron was reluctant. He did not want to face the consequences of eating at the moment, not when he was in a hospital room for everyone to watch him as he hallucinated.

But, his stomach was loud and angry, so he reached for the piece of bread and bit at the corner, testily. He expected his tongue and saliva to reject the food, but instead his body rejoiced. He began to salivate, and his stomach's volume reached astronomically high heights. He quickly ate the bread, despite his hesitancy.

Once Tyron finished, he wanted more. He turned to Tony, who was smiling happily, and turned away, pulling out a tray of food. It was cold now, but it was still food. Tyron practically inhaled the food, but he was still confused.

After a few minute, he forced himself to stop. "W... What happened to me?" He asked, his throat sore.

"The pills, remember? I think they worked. Well, you've been out for a few hours, and I don't know how long it's supposed to last, but it worked! You're normal." Tyron's eyebrow furrowed and he turned to the metal bar on the hospital bed. He put his hand on it and tried to focus on the metal, on each individual part leaving the bar and being soaked into his skin.

Nothing happened.

Tyron began to panic, "Is it temporary?!" He asked, suddenly scared.

Tony looked puzzled, "Yeah, but---"

"Reverse it!" Tyron demanded, suddenly feeling wrong. He felt sick and he was cold. "Do it now!"

"I can't," Tony said, watching him carefully. "You have to wait until it wears off. It'll only be a day, probably. So---"

Tyron tried to get out of the bed, to do something, anything, he didn't know. Tony caught him just before he lost balance and slipped. "Whoa," he said, bringing him back to the bed. "Look, I think the side effects are... Getting to you. You should stay here---"

"No! I need to go... I..." Tyron's eyes were unfocused, and he kept shaking. "Let go of me!" He demanded, trying to shove Tony's arm off him.

"No, you need to stay here," Tony said, and reached to the side of the bed, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. With Tyron's weakened state, it was easy to cuff him to the bed-handle. "You can leave as soon as you're able to absorb that."

Tyron tossed his head, trying to pull away from the cuffs on his wrists. "Let me... I can't... Stop it!" He was beginning to sweat hard, and Tony took a step back. "Help me... I can't... He's... Help..." Tears were leaking down the side of his face that was screwed tight. He was staring at the ceiling, but Tony knew he wasn't truly looking at anything.

Tony swallowed and began to walk out of the room. He was going to burn that pull bottle.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

It took Tyron several hours, but he finally made it back to consciousness. He was a bit confused by the handcuff on his arm, but his stomach was growling so he are through it instead of absorbing it.

Tyron sat up slowly from the bed. His head was spinning and he had to hold into the bar in order to steady himself. " _Mister Tyron_?" Tyron glanced up, " _Please spell my name._ "

"Ya name?" He asked, a but groggily. "S'FRIDAY. _F-R-I-D-A-Y._ Why?"

" _I am contacting Master Tony. He will be there shortly_." A few minutes later, Tony came into the room.

"' _Ey_ ," Tyron said, trying to stand, but Tony forced him back down on the bed.

"No, wait. FRIDAY, check his vitals," Tony said.

" _He is in stable conditions, sir_ ," FRIDAY responded.

"Great. Good," Tony nodded, absent-mindedly. "You're not taking those pills again."

"Wha' pills? Wha's goin' on?" Tyron demanded, annoyed. Tony pulled out his phone and showed him a video.

It was him, laying in that bed, screaming and sobbing. Tony skipped it forward and he was trying to throw things. Tony was in the video, desperately moving things out of his reach. Then, Tyron was shaking and talking to himself, his hands in his hair, as he spoke.

"I..." Tyron was speechless. "Did it _work_?"

"It did," Tony said, "But the side effects... You were a different _person_ , Tyron. I threw the bottle out. You can---"

"Ya did _wha_ '!?" Tyron hissed, his eyes wide as he stared at Tony.

"Tyron, look at what they did to you! It wasn't _good_ for you!"

"I could've figured it out! We... I could find a way---"

" _What_ way!? Did you not just see the video!? You aren't taking those anymore. That's _final_." Tyron didn't say anything. He knew Tony was right, but he didn't want to admit it. That was his only chance at getting his father to... To accept him. As much as Tyron didn't want to admit it, he missed his family. His dad was the only family he had left, despite how he treated him. Tyron was stronger now, maybe he would understand.

Tyron turned away, his lips pressed together. Tony sighed, "Look, I'm sorry," he said. "But after what I saw... The side effects weren't worth it."

"But I was _normal_ ," Tyron said softly.

"Who _cares_ if you're a mutant?" Tony asked, and Tyron couldn't answer. "Look, kid, if that's the cost to be normal, then I'm telling you now, it's overrated." Tyron let out a chuckle and Tony rubbed his head. "Well, if you're feeling better, then the others want to see you."

Tyron hesitated, he wasn't wearing his bandages, and his ribs still hurt. "If you don't want them to---"

"No, no," Tyron shook his head. "They can come." At that, the doors opened. Steve, Clint, and Natasha hurried through.

Natasha hugged him first, and Tyron felt his ears grow red. He usually didn't get, or give, hugs. "Never take anything like that again," Natasha scolded.

"Didn't someone teach you not to take candy from strangers?" Clint said, standing beside Natasha.

Tyron rolled his eyes, "It wasn't candy, an' Tony's not a stranger."

"Then, don't take untested drugs from anyone," Steve said, looking a bit upset. Tyron looked at Steve, and tried to give a small smile. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Steve smiled back and Natasha pulled away. Both Clint and Steve gave him tight, bear-like hugs respectively. Tyron bit his lip as he felt his sides burn in agony, but he didn't want to stop them.

After they finally let go, and Tony began to speak. "Rest for a while. I don't want to take any chances if there's still traces of it in your system. You can sleep in your bed, though." Tyron nodded and moved his legs off the bed to stand. He was a but wobbly and a lot hungry. He had some metal to eat on his floor though, so he decided to wait.

Tony insisted on helping him to his room. Tyron, however, disagreed. "I can walk, Tony," he told the man, a little annoyed.

"Just to be sure," he said, but Tyron wasn't having it.

"Ya can walk m'to the elevator, but that's it," Tony didn't like this, but he reluctantly agreed.

Once Tyron was safely on the elevator and going down, he began to feel exhausted. Despite having slept nearly all day, he felt like it had been a long day.

Rashaad greeted him when he stepped out of the elevator. He was waiting by the door, and staring up at him. His wide brown eyes made Tyron smile. "Hey, kid," He said, rubbing his hair. "What have you been up to all day?" Rashaad grabbed his hand at this, and pulled him away, and into his room. It was smaller than Tyron's, but Rashaad didn't mind.

On his floor was a huge Lego structure --- Rashaad _loved_ Legos. This one was a Lego model of the Tower. It looked nearly three feet tall, and exceedingly detailed. "Whoa, lil' dude, that's awesome!" Tyron awed. He wanted to get on his knees and look at each and every part, but his torso wouldn't allow it.

Rashaad gave a small clap, which meant thank you. Then, he went back to the ground and poked at the front. The door opened and a Lego man fell out. Tyron laughed out loud, it was a Iron Man Lego man!

"That's really cool," Tyron admitted, taking a few steps into his room to look at it. He walked around, admiring the building, before stopping back at the door.

Rashaad pushed the building to the side, where all his other great creations were. The Statue of Liberty, Mini Captain America, Mario and Luigi, et cetera. Rashaad loved his Legos.

"Okay, dude, m'gonna go lie down, did ya eat?" Rashaad nodded. "Did Nat come up 'ere an' make ya food?" He nodded again. Satisfied, Tyron turned and began to walk the few steps to his room. He opened his door and got undressed. He contemplated putting his bandages on, but decided against it again.

Tyron looked in the mirror as he tugged on a shirt. His hair was now a few inches higher than what he wanted. He needed a shape up. He decided that he'd get it done before the rally.

Then, Tyron turned and flopped down on his bed. Comfort and familiarity greeted him. He sighed, hugging his pillow and succumbing to sleep.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

**Just wanted to say thanks again to** **[cheryIbIossom](https://www.wattpad.com/user/cheryIbIossom) ** **on Wattpad for the new cover! Go check out her graphics book!**


	35. 35 - Be A Secret

**Chapter Thirty-Five:**

Tony informed Tyron that it would take at least another few days, maybe a week, for all the aspects of the rally to be organized. Anyone who could come to New York would, but if not, they were going to hold their own rallies in their hometowns.

Tyron was surprised by the information Tony provided. Now that both Zion and Baron were currently in prison awaiting trials for both human trafficking and unlawful possession of illegal substances, i.e. crack, weed, and the like, he didn’t have to worry about them.

Tony’s platform was expansive and although he was doing the most for organizing it, Pepper, his girlfriend and head of Stark Industries, was running it.

Tyron liked Pepper, mainly for her analytical skills that was almost scary, and her kindness. He didn’t usually see much of her ― she was always working ― but when he did, she liked to talk. They talked about a lot of things, Tyron really liked Tony’s business and the thought of running one himself piqued his interests. Pepper liked that a lot, and encouraged him to come up with ideas, even suggesting that he should sell his art. Tyron wasn’t quite sure yet, but he appreciated the advice.

He also didn’t return back to school until Tuesday, and he was really nervous. He first stopped at Peter’s house the night before, Steve took him, and picked up his school books. Ms. May let him in with a smile and as soon as Peter saw how bandaged up he was and practically threw a fit.

“What _happened_ to you!?” He demanded, referring to his, still swollen, eye, and several cuts on his cheek and face. He had dragged him to his messy room and they were talking on his bed. “Where have you been? You missed out on a lot of work ― there’s a project due in science next week and you haven’t even started!”

Tyron simply smiled, he missed Peter and his endless worrying. “Don’ sweat it,” he assured the boy, and looked him up and down. He also noticed a few scratches on his face as well. He reached out to his chin, were a bandage was placed, but Peter caught his hand.

Tyron rose an eyebrow, his grip was tight ― really tight. “Have ya been workin’ out?” He asked curiously, and Peter immediately went red, looking away.

“I. . . uh, it’s just a cut, and it still hurts,” Peter said quickly. Tyron sensed the lie quickly, but didn’t say anything much about it. “If you need help with catching up, just call me, alright?”

Tyron smirked, he knew he didn’t need to ― with everyone back at the tower, he had a valuable homework help force ― but he appreciated the gesture. “Course,” He grinned. “Ya m’go-to guy, ya know?”

“You’re teasing me,” Peter frowned and Tyron scoffed.

“ _Wha_ ’? Now tha’ would jus’ be rude!” Both of them started laughing loudly. Tyron smiled as he glanced at his backpack and clothes neatly piled near Peter’s door.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Peter asked suddenly, and Tyron turned, raising an eyebrow. “Your. . . _family problems_? Do you wanna. . . ya know, talk?”

Tyron smiled bitterly, “Nah, I think m’good.”

“Are you _sure_?” Tyron hesitated. Could he tell Peter that he was a mutant and he spent the past week getting two major drug lords ― one who had lived not two _blocks_ from his home ― put into prison? Could he tell him that he used to be the _playtoy_ of a monster, and he was currently mourning the deaths of two of good friends, one he had fallen in love with? Would Peter understand? Would _anyone_ truly understand?

“My friend just died,” Tyron said after a minute. “Laurence Dean.”

“' _Laurence Dean_ '?” Peter ruffled his eyebrows. “You mean the mutant kid that was died?”

“He was murdered,” Tyron said, angry to even think about it. “By a group who are really Anti-Mutants. They’re like the _White Supremacists_ , but for mutants.”

“You knew him?”

“We were friends,” Tyron said. “We used to play ball near the area he was arrested. I saw him the day he got arrested, actually. You would’ve loved him.”

Peter was quiet for a while, “I... Lied about how my parents died. They were killed and I was really angry for a long time,” he finally said. Tyron looked at him, a bit surprised. “I was in school and some people came to class and pulled me out. They brought me to Aunt May’s and Uncle Ben’s house ― their old one. There were people guarding the door, and men in black suits walking around. I knew my parents were scientists, but. . . I didn’t know they were apart of SHIELD.”

Tyron was shocked, but he didn't want to say anything. He let Peter talk, he needed this just as much as Tyron did. “Nobody told me anything ― I was only in, like, eighth grade. So, I got a radio, messed with it, and found out the channel they were using. I heard the news for myself. That my parents were dead ― that HYDRA agents, or whatever had killed them, along with a few dozen other people.”

“M’sorry,” Tyron said softly, not knowing what else to tell him. He could see tears welling in Peter’s eyes, but he shook his head and wiped his face.

“Aunt May and Uncle Ben let me take a few months off of school. Then, Uncle Ben was killed in a driveby.” Tyron’s eyes went large, and his hand moved to cover a gasp. “I stayed back for a year.”

“ _M’so sorry_ ,” Tyron said sympathetically.

“It was a hard year,” Peter said, “But. . . Aunt May and I, we got through it. We lost a lot that year. Since Uncle Ben was gone, we couldn’t afford the house we were in, so we moved here. It was better, and more convenient to go to school. Aunt May works herself to death, and I want to get a part-time job to help her, but she won’t let me. She wants me to go to college, no matter what, so I try my best.”

“Ya a great kid, Peter,” Tyron said, and Peter scoffed, looking away.

“I’m not a kid, I’m nearly as old as you are.”

“Still,” Tyron shrugged, and Peter smiled. “I’ve seen guys go through tha’ kinda shit an’ jus’. . . shut down. Ya jus’ gonna keep pushin’ through, an’ I like tha’.”

“You’ve been through a lot too,” Peter reasoned, but Tyron shook his head.

“My parents were _way_ different, trust me. M’mom, she was great, but. . . she saw her ideas in everyone. She didn’t know how to. . . be accepting, I guess.” Tyron shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

“S’a long story,” Tyron admitted. He didn’t think he was quite ready to come out to Peter yet. He’s been doing a lot of ‘coming out’ recently. He needed a break. “‘Sides, m’ride is probably gettin’ upset tha’ m’takin’ so goddamn long.” Tyron chuckled and moved to stand. “Thanks, Peter, for sharin’ tha’ wit’ me.”

“Tyron,” Peter said, and he stopped, looking at him. Peter looked a bit flustered and tongue twisted. “You. . . You talk about mutants and mutant rights a lot. Are. . . _you_ a mutant?” Tyron froze, watching Peter for a moment. Peter simply stared at him, his green, innocent eyes seemed to pierce through his soul. His tainted soul.

Peter recognized his hesitation in seconds and immediately began to correct himself. “I--I. . . I’m sorry if that’s a bad subject. It was insensitive, and, I―”

“Yeah,” Tyron said, and Peter looked at him, shocked. Tyron supposed that if he wasn’t going to come out to Peter, this would be the next best thing. “I am. I have been since I was thirteen.”

“How did you know?” Tyron hesitated, twisting his fingers and looking down.

“. . . Someone tried to, uh, stab me, an’. . . it didn’t work.” Peter’s mouth fell open and Tyron looked away, embarrassed. “Why do ya ask? Is somethin’ wrong?”

Now, it was Peter’s turn to look uneasy. He shifted on the bed, and looked away, “Can I, uh, show you something?”

“Course,” Tyron watched the boy as he moved to the door, making sure it was closed. Then, he turned to Tyron. He folded his fingers and suddenly white, sticky stuff flew from his wrist.

Tyron stared as it went a few feet before falling on the ground. “. . . Wow. . . wha’ _is_ tha’?”

“I think it's spider silk," Tyron gaped and Peter rushed to explain. "When we went to Oscorp Industries, I was a bit by a spider and got super sick. I don’t know exactly how it works, but. . . now I can do that. And, the strength thing, that’s pretty on and off. Also. . .” Peter glanced at the wall before jumping on it. Tyron inhaled, about to shout, but he just hung there. He looked back at Tyron, grinning. “I can hang on walls. Isn’t that crazy!?”

“Yeah,” Tyron said, shocked. “Ya said ya were bit by a spider?”

“Yeah,” Peter jumped off the wall and looked back at Tyron. “I, uh, wanted to ask you, because. . . I thought you would know something about this. Does--Does that make _me_ a mutant?”

“No,” Tyron shook his head, “You’re an _Enhanced_.”

“A _what_?” Peter was stunned, and his eyebrow furrowed.

“An _Enhanced_! Like, Wanda, I―!”

“Who’s _Wanda_?” Tyron ran his hands over his head and smiled at Peter.

“ _Wanda Maximoff_? Have ya heard of her? She’s an Enhanced too.” A rare smile spread on Tyron’s face. “This is _great_ , oh m’god, Peter, _this_ _s’great_!”

“ _Why_? What does that _mean_?” Peter looked a little frightened, so Tyron forced himself to calm down.

“Mutants an’ Enhanced are two different things. With the new Mutant Bill being passed, it makes Mutants easier to manage an’―”

“Am I going to go to _jail_!?” Peter exclaimed and Tyron stepped forward, placing a hand over his mouth to shush him.

“No, no no, jus’--jus’ _listen_ ,” He urged. “Mutants have the x-gene, have ya heard of tha’?” Peter nodded under his hand. “Enhanced _don’t_. Ya can usually only catch ‘em with physical deformitieses, but otherwise, they’re practically _undetectable_.”

“So,” Peter mumbled under Tyron’s hand. He moved it and took a step back. “I _won’t_ go to jail?”

“If ya stay low an’ don’t give ‘em a reason to arrest ya, ya won’t,” Tyron smiled.

“What about you? Are _you_ going to go to jail?” Peter asked and Tyron bristled.

“It’ll be harder for them to catch me, but yeah,” Tyron smiled. “I could.”

“That’s not fair!” Peter exclaimed, and Tyron shushed him again. Peter kept his voice down, but he began to speak quickly. “Why do you get treated badly when Mutants and Enhanced are the same thing!?”

“They are,” Tyron agreed. “An’ they aren’t. Mutants get their powers genetically and it can’t be controlled. But Enhanced, theirs are artificial, it can be controlled wha' ya git. For example, ya got tha' white shit and climbin' on walls right after ya got bit by a spider, right? So ya’s is based on a spider. Mutants have more of a roulette an’ ‘they are harder to control. There’s too many of us, ya can’t stop us all.”

“That’s crazy,” Peter shook his head. Tyron only shrugged.

“Tha’s how th' world is,” He said. “Sometimes, ya jus’ gotta bend to the system.”

“Not all the time!” Peter protested, “What about that mutant rally comin’ up?”

Tyron smiled, “Tha’s different. Tha’s new. We. . . we’ve never done somethin’ like this before. At least, wit’ it bein’ legal an’ all.” Tyron exhaled and stretched. “I really gotta head out. Steve is waitin' for m'an'―”

“ _Steve_?” Peter asked and Tyron froze for a second. “Who’s _Steve_?”

“Ah, uh,” Tyron rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s a friend.”

“Is he. . . your _boyfriend_?” Peter said with a low voice and Tyron nearly choked, his eyes widening.

“Wha’!? _No_! He--He’s like _m’uncle_! Oh, m’god!” Now, Peter went completely red for the misconception, and Tyron started to double over with laughter.

“I--I--I―!” He stammered, unable to get the words out. Tears filled Tyron’s eyes as he laughed, and shook his head.

“Oh, _god_ ,” He wheezed, his cheeks hurting from smiling so bad. “Tha’s too _funny_!”

“I--I didn’t _know_!” Peter finally choked out, but Tyron waved a hand, as if to say, don’t worry about it.

“Tha’s _too funny_!” Tyron wiped at his face, trying to stop his giggles. “Oh, man, m’gonna tell him ya said that.”

“Oh, _god_ , no,” Peter begged and Tyron smiled, playfully hitting his arm.

“I should’ve taken a picture of ya face. Ya still look like a tomato,” Peter looked away, trying to hide his enflamed cheeks, but it was no use.

Tyron grabbed his bag, still chuckling, and looked back at Peter, “‘Ey,” Peter looked up at him, obviously trying to rub the red away. “Remember wha’ I said, a’right? Stay low. S’dangerous right now.”

“Okay,” Peter nodded seriously and Tyron smiled. He came over and held his hand out. Peter looked at it, confused.

“Geez, have ya never done a black man’s handshake before?” He shook his head and took Peter’s hand, showing him how to do it. Peter laughed as he hugged him and patted his back.

“Why is it called that?” He asked curiously.

Tyron shrugged, “Nobody knows.” Then, he turned, “I’ll see ya in class tomorrow.”

“Yeah, good luck,” Peter said and Tyron barked out a laugh, waving as he left his room.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

Class the next day was slow. For the most part, his teachers were upset over his absence, but he managed to get a fake slip written up for it, via Tony in exchange for a week’s worth of grounding with Steve. They accepted it and pushed all of a week’s worth of schoolwork and projects in his face.

Tyron sighed as he sat through lunch in the library, planning on what to do first based on the extended due dates given to him by his teachers. He was so busy stressing and flipping through papers that he didn’t even notice Michelle approaching him. That is, until she sat down in front of him.

Tyron nearly jumped, his hand absorbing his metal pen. “ _Shit_!” He swore loudly, moving to scavenge through his bag for a new writing utensil. “Wha’s up, Michelle?”

“You talk like we’re friends,” She frowned, watching as he pulled another pen out and began to write again.

“Well, after telling ya m’two deepest, darkest secrets, I’d assume tha’ we were pretty close, yeah,” Tyron shrugged and continued to write. “‘Ey, do ya know when that English paper is due? The one on the literary analysis on _To Kill A Mocking Bird_?”

“It was due last friday for us,” Michelle answered and Tyron nodded, writing again. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

“I don’ have time to ask anyone anythin’ right now, Michelle,” Tyron told her, grabbing a history book and flipping through the pages.

“You don’t want to know if I told anyone?” Michelle demanded, and finally, Tyron raised his eyes to look at her just for a minute before beginning to write again.

“If I cared wha’ ya said ‘bout m’ere, I would’ve dropped out,” Tyron admitted. “An’, besides, if ya did say somethin’, why would ya come ‘ere an’ brag to m’bout it?” Michelle opened her mouth, but then frowned. He _did_ have a point there.

“You’re right,” She admitted.

“I know.”

“And, you’re an ass.”

“I know.” Michelle scoffed, turning to glance at a pair of girl walking by, whispering to each other.

“How do you deal with that?” She asked softly. “With what you did?”

Tyron hesitated. He set his pen down and looked up at Michelle, “It depends on th’ day,” He admitted softly. “Some days, I don’ an’ m’jus’ a mess. Other days. . . I remember ‘em an’ hope they’re in a better place.”

“Do you believe in God?”

Tyron shrugged. “I dunno. M’too young to make tha’ decision for m’self.”

Michell was silent for several seconds. “I heard what happened to Baron and Zion,” She said. “It was on the news.”

“Yeah,” Tyron chuckled. “I honestly didn’t expect to get Zion put in jail. But, I guess you knew about that, right? With the Avengers?”

“I was wondering about that,” Michelle said, and leaned on her hands, suddenly looking like her usual, laid-back self again. “Do you like live with them, or is it like a club? How does that work?”

Tyron rose an eyebrow, “Wha’ do ya mean ‘ _how does tha’ work_ ’? Ya got m’drugged up. I told ya all ‘bout it.” Tyron remembered it all too well, and especially the shoe Tony threw at him when he admitted to taking drugs in the school bathroom.

Now, Michelle looked at him funny. “What are you _talking_ about? You never told me about any of that. What do you mean someone drugged you?”

“When ya gave m’th’ cookie!” Tyron said, annoyed. “I told ya my. . . livin’ arrangements. Ya said tha’ ya would tell Baron, remember?”

“Welll actually,” Michelle rubbed the back of her neck. “That was all a bluff. Well, the threat about the school wasn’t but everything else, I pretty much guessed.” Tyron stared at her, dumbfounded. “I mean, I knew you had connections with Baron, but _I_ didn’t ― and I wasn’t about to get involved in it. I assumed you must’ve known about Zion too, and he was closest to me, so things worked out better. Also, I guessed that you lived in Avengers’ Tower. After I saw you on TV, I assumed you must’ve lived nearby or in it, or something, but I didn’t know for sure, to be honest.”

“So. . .” Tyron gulped, “Ya _didn’t_ drug me?”

“Why would I waste my weed on you?” Michelle scoffed and Tyron’s eyes widened, his hand clenching his pen. This brought a dangerous question to the table. One that made Tyron’s mouth run dry and his stomach twist.

If Michelle didn’t drug him, then. . . who _did_? And, if they knew about the Avengers and Baron, they must’ve known about his mutation too. With the bill just being passed. . . whoever drugged him could get him potentially sent to prison, or worse. With his record, if this person had evidence ― which was highly unlikely ― they could have Tyron killed.

“What’s up with you?” Michelle asked, confused. “You looked like you’ve seen the dead.”

Tyron let out a dry chuckle. “S’worse than tha’.” He said, his hand shaking and he tried to hide it in his lap. “If this person knows all about me, then I _am_ dead.”


	36. 36 - Be A Protester

**Chapter Thirty-Six:**

Tyron sat on the edge of his bed, reading his textbook quietly. Rashaad sat beside him, fast asleep. He had been watching him write earlier, but the task apparently seemed too boring for him, so he decided to take a nap instead.

Rashaad gave a small snore, breathing softly on the edge of his textbook, and Tyron nudged his face away, but continued to read. He was well immersed in the topic of the ancient Chinese military when he heard a knock at the door. Rashaad raised his head, looking around groggily, obviously still completely out of it. “Come in,” Tyron said, watching the door.

To his surprise, Pepper Potts stepped in his room. She’s never even been on his floor before. Tyron practically fell off the bed to greet her, flustered by her sudden arrival. “Ms. Potts!” He said, tripping over his shoes that he left beside his bed. His room was usually clean, but today he had been wrestling with Rashaad and looked a lot messier than usual.

“Tyron,” Pepper smiled, holding her arms out for a hug. She always hugged him, and despite Tyron’s distaste for them ― he didn’t want his chest to press against someone and they find out his secret ― he still gave her hugs.

“Wha’ are ya doin’ ‘ere?” Tyron asked when they pulled away, but then corrected himself for the rudely worded question. “No, wait, I mean, I--I usually don’ see ya on m’level, so I jus’---I didn’t expect ya to come. . . ‘ere. . .”

Pepper smiled, “I have news for you,” She said smiling. “I wanted to deliver it in person. I probably should have told you beforehand, though.”

“Nah, I don’ mind, I mean, it’s ya house ― I mean. . . . buildin’ I guess? I dunno, uhm, anyways, wha’ did ya want to tell me?” Tyron asked, calming down a bit and moving his text books and his backpack on his bed so they could sit. Rashaad had fallen back asleep, but hit Tyron in the side when he moved the bed beneath him.

“I just wanted to tell you,” Peper said, straightening her black pencil skirt. “That everything is ready for the rally and it’ll start tomorrow.” Tyron’s eyes went huge and he covered his mouth with his hand. Tony had told him that it wouldn’t take too long, but he felt a bit shocked that it was actually happening.

“That’s great!” Tyron cheered. “Thank ya, Ms. Potts!”  

Pepper smiled proudly. “The arrangements have been set, the streets have been closed off for the march down to 80th.” Pepper stopped and looked at Tyron, raising an eyebrow, “I was hoping you would be willing to give a speech?” Tyron blinked, shocked.

“A--A speech?” He repeated.

“Yes,” Pepper grinned, her green eyes filled with optimism. “I mean, you are the one who wanted this to come to reality the most. I have no doubt that you’re able to give a speech. If you need help writing it, then I have an entire team ready to assist you. The people who usually help Tony with his speeches already have a few points I suggested. They can help you write it tonight and it will be ready tomorrow for the rally.”

Tyron swallowed, twisting his fingers. “I. . . I don’ know. . .”

Pepper placed a hand on his knee, giving him a comforting look, “If you don’t feel comfortable about it, then we can have someone else give your speech for you. I just feel that it would be a lot more powerful if someone who has been in your position at least wrote it. This is your chance to tell your story, Tyron. Someone else can say your story for you, but I don’t think anyone will be able to give it as powerfully as you can.”

Tyron looked at Pepper for a minute, then he glanced behind him at Rashaad, who was sleeping soundly, his scaly black wings twitching every now and then. “Will you do it?”

“I’ll do it,” He replied, nodding slightly. Then he sat straighter and gave a small grin. “Who’s gonna help m’write it?”

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Tyron groaned, leaning back in his swivel chair. “Is there any other main points you want to give?” One of the women, Lindsey asked. She was indian, had dark hair and copper coloured skin. She was twisting a stylus in her hand, writing on an iPad.

“There’s a lotta other points I wanna give,” Tyron replied sourly. “I jus’ don’ know if it will match th’ rest of th’ speech.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Cherise said. She was hispanic, with thick, brown hair and tanned skin. She had an accent that made it obvious that she was bilingual. “What do you want to say?”

Tyron sighed a bit, leaning forward on his knees. “I wanna talk ‘bout m’time wit’ Baron, but if I do, I might get sent to jail.”

“What about just the things you endured from him?” Conner asked. He was white with blond hair that was grown very long. He also had intersting old scar on his cheek. When Tyron asked him about it, he said that he cut it on a fence at a party when he was young. “The punishments, the tramua. Are you comfortable with talking about that?”

“No,” Tyron said immediately. He wasn’t even comfortable thinking about it, much less telling a hundreds of people what he endured at the hands of Baron.

“What about your ideas for Mutant Rights?” Lindsey asked. “The things you want for people like you, like equality, hope, equal rights, mutant restrictions lifted, et cetera.”

“Yeah, I defintely want to talk 'bout tha',” Tyron nodded, a few ideas coming to the surface. “I want to give m'own accounts of thin's like tha' happened to me. I wanna talk 'bout havin' to starve because I knew that if I looked suspicious in a store, they either thought I was tryin’ to steal somethin’ or I was a mutant lookin’ for trouble. Oh! An’, I wanna talk ‘bout not bein’ able to get a job if they got ya bein’ a mutant on record. Like being a mutant is the same as servin' twenty in prison. Like it’s a fuckin’ crime.” Tyron huffed angrily, getting himself riled up at the thought. Meanwhile, Lindsey, Cherise, and Conner were bullet pointing all his words, writing a few notes beside them.

“That’s another thing,” Conner said as he finished writing his last words. “The stereotype that most, if not all, mutants are vigilantes or thugs. The majority are teenagers suffering through traumatic experiences in schools like bullying, domestic violence, or sexual abuse.” The others murmured their agreements, writing down his thoughts.

“When we get up there,” Cherise spoke up. “You can’t swear. It’ll make you look like a threat or a thug to the press.”

“Yeah, look at people like Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, or Dorothy Height. Swearing would only make causes seem minimal,” Lindsey agreed. “You need to stay calm and collected while you’re talking. You can be emotional, but don’t let that emotion twist into hate or anger, alright?”

Tyron nodded, thinking more on what he wanted to say. “We need names,” Tyron suddenly said. “Mutants who died for this to get here. We need them to know tha' it wasn’t jus' Lars, tha' he’s not new. He was one out of hundreds of thousands of others ― people who have been turned down or crushed by society. We need to remember then. I want to remember them.”

“Got it,” Conner nodded, “Great point. Anything else?”

“This speech sounds like it’s going to be powerful,” Tyron turned to see Steve and Tony standing in the doorway. Steve was smiling at him proudly, “Are you ready?”

Tyron only scoffed, turning back around. “Not really,” He admitted. “It’s pretty short notice.”

“Yes,” Cherise agreed, “But we can do it. We’ve had it shorter.”

“Yeah, a night in advance is a blessing,” Lindsey said, with a small laugh. “Mr. Stark sometimes only gives us hours, if that.”

“I don’t!” Tony defended, crossing his arms sourly.

“You do,” Conner agreed. “The speech in Chicago in 2013? We literally just landed and the speech needed to be prepared and ready in two and a half hours.”

“The most stressful day of my life,” Cherise agreed and they all laughed.

Steve clapped a hand on Tyron’s shoulder, “Well, it’s good you guys have time to make it perfect. Thank you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cherise said, her cheeks slightly reddening, and she leaned forward in her chair. She was obviously eager to keep the conversation going, despite the task at hand.

“Be sure to eat,” Tony said and messed with his growing afro. One of these days, he was going to get around to cutting it shorter.

“And get lots of sleep,” Steve agreed, and Tyron rolled his eyes.

“Ya both sound like m’mom,” He teased, but Steve grinned.

“And don’t forget to eat your vegetables,” He said.

“And brush your teeth for two minutes, twice a day,” Tony continued, obviously enjoying messing with him.

Tyron shooed them away and they both chuckled, leaving the room. Tyron and the others continued to work a bit past twelve before they demanded he should go to sleep in order to prepare for the big day. Eventually, Tyron agreed.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Tyron felt as if he were going to have a heart attack the next day. He looked out at the crowd of people all of them holding homemade signs and chanting phrases in the street. He didn’t know how many of them there were, it felt as if there were millions of people gathered at the start of the street, ready to hold up their signs and chant loudly to the world. They declared their pride to be a mutant, demanding their equality to be represented in the laws passed by the government.

Tyron stared at the people. A few were clearly displaying their mutations, floating in the air, covered in bugs, having multicoloured skin. It was amazing.

"Are you ready?" Tony asked. He was standing behind them, fully armoured. In fact, all of the Avengers were here, minus Sam Wilson and James Rhodes, who were occupied doing something else. Wanda ans Vision were here, and so was Clint and Natasha. They were smiling and looking proud.

Tyron tried to give them smiles --- they deserved smiles --- but the nervousness gnawed at his stomach, and he felt like he needed to vomit. He thought he might, he ate a lot of metal to keep his face completely steel and hardened for the opposition. 

Natasha must have noticed and stepped over, placing a hand on his back. "Don't worry, it's going to be fine," she said. "You're ready for this. You're going to be great."

"Yeah..." Tyron said, looking back at the crowd of people ready to follow him down the street, signs held high and voices at top volume. He remembered Pietro and Lars, wishing they were at his side. He knew they wouldn't be back, but the thought of them made his nervousness ease a bit. He was going to do this. He was going to do this.

"Okay... Okay, m'ready," he said. Tony smiled, and put his face mask on. Then, he flew off the roof of the apartment and to the crowd. He could hear him in his suit even as he descended on the people. Tyron turned to the rather rickety stairwell and made his say down, listening to Tony's electronically-filtered voice chant. " _Mutant and proud! Mutant and proud!_..."

Tyron finally got to the ground and joined the people. When everyone was on the ground, they began to walk, their palms were in the air, arms crossed in an 'x' above his head as he chanted with everyone. "Mutant and proud! Mutant and proud!" He cheered loudly as they walked.

People soon recognized who they were --- it wasn't hard from their very distinguishable suits --- and parted the crowd. They still chanted loudly, if anything, the presence of the Avengers urged them to cry louder. As if their goal was not only to bring equality, but to shout to the heavens what they wanted, what they needed. That way, there would be no mistake that they were proud to be what they were. Even though the world may treat them like dirt benesth a boot, they would still rise up and make it clear that they were proud to be who they were, no matter how hard the people made it for them to survive in society.

It didn't take the group of hundreds of thousands long to gain the popularity of media and their Anti-Mutant counterparts.

Tyron heard angry women and men scream at them. Prejudice people enraged that an oppressed group would even have the audacity to rise up. Tyron heard a woman scream at him when his eyes caught hers. "You disgusting abominations!" She screeched, "Go back to Hell where you belong!!"

Tyron inhaled and continued to march, not giving to the crowd of angry people the satisfaction of his reaction. Instead, he chanted louder, " _Mutant! And! Proud_!!"

It took them a while to get there, but eventually they were in front of the jewelry store where Lars was arrested. Tony stopped and everyone began to sit down on the side walks and in the streets. Tony looked at Tyron and handed him a megaphone and a small handful of papers. His notes that he wrote the night before.

Tyron swallowed, this was it. It was time. "Two months ago, a boy named Laurence Dean was arrested for shopliftin' at this store," Tyron announced to the hundreds of thousands of people sitting around him. "He was tryin' to return th' goods stolen from th' store to th' police. Because of this, Laurence was shot at an' beaten." Tyron inhaled, remembering the sight of his friend bloody and bruised in the hospital room. "He was nearly _dead_! And, d'ya know what happened? They police pushed it under th' rug!"

Tyron cleared his throat and continued. "This is only one out of tens of thousands of incidents where the police brutalized mutants, where our government pushed people like us for being born! James Devor, a fourteen-year old shot an' killed in San Antonio, Texas after openly showin' his mutation --- the ability to produce small cyclones --- in a park. Alicia David, a twenty-three-year old killed in Greenville, South Carolina for having her mutation --- visibly turnin' green an' other colours similar to that. She was taken from her home, beaten and then drowned. Jason Wu, chained at the end of a pick-up truck in dragged forty miles on a dirt road because he was exposed as a mutant by his parents. The twelve victims who died after a mutant shelter was burned down in by Anti-Mutants Activists."

"Laurence Dean is _not_ a ananomly," he shouted, his words ringing around him. "He just the most recent victim to this brutalization of mutants. What did any of these victims do to deserve such a death!? Was bein' brought into this world worthy of bein' murdered by grown men and women? By their own flesh an' blood? Their parents? Their aunts, uncles, or cousins!?" Tyron felt tears in his eyes and inhaled, looking away before beginning to speak again.

"In our country, mutants are treated less than tha' of non-mutants. The government has made it virtually impossible for a mutant to get a job. If ya blood is tested an' they discover th' X-gene, ya are unable to get tha' job. So, where do mutants turn to? Drugs, prostitution, and other criminal acts of violence! Jus' so they can have sufficent funds in order to feed their family! Why do we discriminate against a group of people who make up twenty percent of this country's population!?" The crowd roared in response, a few clapping loudly, showing their support.

"Teenagers between twelve an' twenty-one make up fifty-six percent of th' mutant population. Of this, th' percentage of students dropping out or being forced out of their schools is _eighty-six percent_! Th' government finds is in th' schools, students, children, an' takes away our right to an education. They take away our right to learn about th' world we live in. Without schooling, where do we turn to? Wanderin' the streets, drugs, homelessness, or gangs."

"If the government wants to know why mutants make up a third of the crime in America, why we are being killed, they need to look at their school systems! Look at their workplaces! Look at the homes, th' parks! They need to look at Laurence Dean walkin' down the street, innocently, and bein' murdered for it." The crowd roared in appreciation, and Tyron felt excitement flare in him. He was excited and ready to fight.

"It is time for action! We will _not_ be oppressed anymore! Th' mutant bill tha' will authorize the right to categorize Mutants --- human beings --- as Subhuman is _B.S_., an' we won't stand for it. We will be _mutants_ and we will be _proud_! We will honour the day Laurence Dean was unjustly murdered! We will protect our brothers and sisters as family! We will rise up an' we will fight th' system! Fight th' government! We will succeed an' when we walk out we will have our hands raised to the air an' we will shout mutant an' proud! Mutant an' proud!"

The rest of the crowd continued to chant, loudly. It rang down the street, echoing through the city. Tyron wondered if they could hear it in the City. He hoped they could. He hopes everyone would hear his pride, his happiness to be what his is. For the first time in his life, Tyron felt as if he were apart of something, like he was leading a revolution and would not be stopped.

Tyron grinned as the crowd got louder. He turned to Tony and the others who were all smiling and had their arms cross too. He actually did it!

Then, he heard the loud, rapid fire _pop! pop! pop!_ of gunshots.


	37. 37 - Be A Brother

**Chapter Thirty-Seven:**

Tyron and the other mutants sprang into action, shouting over the screaming to get under cover. Tyron felt one his his shoulder and he hissed, the bullet was burning hot when he landed. He grabbed his shoulder and looked around.

A little girl looked lost in the crowd of people pushing bad running all around her. Tyron jumped in, grabbing the girl and shielding her just as he felt a bullet hit his back and arms. He breathed heavily and the girl was crying. He kept her to his chest on the ground as people ran on or around him.

He smelled the taste of blood in the air and heard the wails of tears and sobbing. He felt a strong arm grab at him, and he looked up, it was Steve. He was blocking the bullets for him with his shield. 

"Take her to safety!" Tyron said, and gave the girl to him. Then he ran out in the crowd. His hands grabbing at a nearby car. In seconds, he was absorbing all of the metal into his skin. He yanked the door off and ran to a couple hiding near a trash bin. "Use it as cover!" He ordered and pushed them to move.

Tyron saw a woman lying on the ground, holding her knee and groaning. He carefully helped her up and created a metal shield with his back. It cut through his shirt, but absorbed a lot of bullets in the process. He helped the limping woman over to the couple he gave the car door too. "Get down to seventh eighth street. There should be a row of stores and buildings. You can take cover in there. Go! Spread the word!" 

They nodded and thanked him, helping the limping woman as they walked. Tyron felt more bullets hit his skin and he looked up. He saw the sniper, it was brief, but he saw him.

Tyron ran, heading for the metal staircase. He jumped, reaching the ladder and pounded up the steps. He made it to the rooftop in minutes and he found the man with his ears blocked and his eyes busy in the gun.

Tyron yanked the man back by the neck and threw him on the ground. He tried to crawl back, but Tyron stabbed him in the hand, keeping him in place.

The man cried out in pain, trying to curl away, but Tyron bent over him. His hand turned into a long knife and he pointed it at this man's throat. He gasped, and held his good hand up. He was ready to stab the man until a hand rested on his shoulder.

"Tyron! Wait!" Tony said, and Tyron glared at him, anger fueling his blood. " _Wait_."

"He _killed_ them!" Tyron screamed, his anger infesting him. He felt his body absorb Tony's metal hand. "Look! He _fucking killed_ them!!"

"I know, I know," he said. "I know. But you can't kill him. It'll solve nothing."

"Yeah!" The man sneered through his pain. "Listen to his rich ass, you mutant freak!" Tyron pushed his hand farther, the edge drawing blood.

"Tyron! Please, let him go." He breathed heavily, gritting his teeth and swallowing hard. He moved his hand, and stood straight. The man scrambled to get up, but Tony shot something at his foot, rooting him in place.

"The police are coming," Tony assured. "They'll be here soon." Tyron heard a gun click and jumps into action. The man managed to shoot at Tyron's chest three times before Tyron grabbed the gun, and absorbing it. The man scowled reaching behind him to pull out a knife, but Tyron didn't give him the chance to.

He grabbed the man's hand, yanking it away from his waist. Then, he used his mutation to bind his hands together.

Tony came to Tyron side, eyes wide in concern. "Are you alright?!" He asked, and Tyron curled his lip, turning away.

"M'fine," he grunted, moving a hand to his chest. All these bullets were beginning to actually hurt. The sniper ones burned when they hit him, but with this one being at such close proximity? He was going to be feeling it later. It wasn't like he was totally healed yet.

Tyron rubbed his sore chest with his hand. He was sure his bandages wouldn't hold up much longer and he didn't want to be exposed in front of all of the cameras.

Tyron heard more bullets firing and he turned. "I'll get the rooftops," Tony said, turning to the gunman. "You help the people on the ground. Get them to safety."

Tyron nodded and made his way to the staircase, looking out for any victims injured and unable to walk. He took them away two or sometimes three at a time and moved them to cover before running down the street and repeated the process.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
When the police and paramedics finally arrived, the shooting had stopped. Tony and the others rounded up the rest of the gunmen — a few had opted to kill themselves instead.

The paramedics rounded up all of the wounded, and covered up all of the dead. Tyron stared at the crowd, his eyes wet with tears.

He pressed his face in is hands and let out a small sob. How could this have happened!? All these people, these innocent people, dead because people believed them to be something they surely weren't.

Was their persecution justified? Were mutants put on this planet just so they could be killed, belittled, and destroyed? What was the point of all this anymore?

"Tyron!" Someone shouted. He looked up. It was Clint and Natasha. They came to his side and placed a hand on his back.

"Let's go home, kid," Clint murmured. Tyron looked around. He saw a woman sobbing over the corspe of her dead son. Tyron suddenly recalled Chris when he finally snuck into his room after he was jump. He saw his limp body hanging from the ceiling fan, his eyes empty of the life and intelligence it once held.

Tyron was breathing heavily, his face contorted into a pain again. Clint sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulders as Tyron cried. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't live in a world where innocent people were murdered out of hate and spite and unjustified fear. It wasn't right! It wasn't fair!

Tyron heard heavy metal footsteps approaching and knew it was Tony. "Hey," he said, and Tyron moved his head, rubbing at his face. Tony had his mask off and was watching him. "You should probably head out. Everyone who needs medical attention is being helped. We'll help with... Clean up. The police need witness accounts and are interviewing the other shooters. They are going to be taken down to the station."

"No," Tyron shook his head, feeling a headache forming. "I... I wanna stay."

"No," Natasha argued. "Go home. You need to rest. It's been a long day."

"But, I..." Tyron looked down. He was so tired, "Okay. I'll go." He stood slowly, an arm wrapped under his chest, which was very sore, along with his back and legs where sniper bullets hit him. He's never been hit by bullets at that kind of velocity and force.

Tony noticed his limping and put an arm under his. Tyron jumped, but Tony just fired up his leg boosters and back thrusters, moving them carefully to the black SUV with Happy at the wheel. Tyron, much to his pleasure, saw Rashaad in the car as well.

"Take him back to the Tower," Tony ordered Happy, and he nodded. Tony looked at Rashaad, who was too busy quietly inspecting Tyron. "Hey, kid." Rashaad and Tyron looked at Tony. He smirked at Rashaad, "Keep an eye on him." Rashaad nodded solemnly, and continued to review him.

Tony them closed the door and Happy began to drive them home.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Tyron laid in bed, listening to the television — which he almost never turned on. It was tuned to the news, who was covering the mutant rally. He heard a knock at his door and murmured, "Come in."

Natasha entered the room with Steve right behind. They both looked at the television as it replayed the moments of panic and terror after Tyron's speech. He saw as the first dozen people fall to the ground, injured or dead. The person recording screamed and began to ran, then fell to the ground. The camera began to go cloudy with the cover of blood on the lense.

Steve reached over to turn the television off. Tyron didn't care at this point. He put his face in his knees, his shoulders hunched against the world. He felt the bed shift and Natasha's thin hand placed on his back. "It's going to be okay."

"If I never pushed tha' rally..." He said with a sniff. "They said there was almost twenty-five dead."

"That wasn't your fault, Tyron," Steve told him seriously. "You did what you felt was right---"

"An' look who's fuckin' dead 'cause of it!?" Tyron snapped. The anger that spilt over his sides seemed to lash out on Steve. He breathed and looked down. "I can't do this anymore," he said honestly. "Mutants an' humans... I don' think they'll ever get along.  Not while there's people like them in this world."

"Don't say that," Natasha said.

"S'true!" He snapped. He grabbed the remote beside him and turned back on the television.

"'--- _At least twenty-six_ _casualites_ _and a hundred or more wounded. Twenty -one of them were minors, five were under twelve-years-old. Those who were admitted to the hospital have been registered by the police. Because of this, the victims have been refusing help by the police, causing at least three victims to bleed to death. The President still hasn't said anything on the matter,_ _however_ —" Natasha turned the television off again.

" _Tyron_ —"

"People are _dying_ , Natasha! I put them in this position. If they don't get help, they die. If they do, they get sent to prison!"

"That's not your fault," Steve said, arms crossed. "It they don't get help, it's their decision—"

"If they do get help, they get taken from their families!" Tyron snapped. "M'fuckin' sick of it! I can't do this! I can't!" His voice broke at the end of his sentence. More tears burned his already sore eyes and he looked down, rubbing at his eyes, embarrassment clenching his stomach.

" _Tyron_ ," Natasha said soothingly. "I know you're upset, but you can't do anything about it now. But, we can try to keep the people from being registered."

Tyron sniffed, but didn't say anything. He remembered that girl he saved when the shooting started. He wondered if she was still alive. He hoped she was.

"Go to sleep," Natasha said. "We'll work this all out, okay?" Tyron nodded and lied down on his bed. He bit the inside of his lip to keep himself from crying again.

Natasha and Steve left and they shut the door softly behind them.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
When Tyron finally fell asleep, he dreamed about Chris. They were on the court, playing ball. Chris jumped to land a dunk above Tyron's head.

"No fair!" Tyron huffed, crossing his arms. Chris grinned, grabbing the bouncing ball and strolling over. "I can't dunk yet!"

"Get taller," he teased, and Tyron rolled his eyes. Chris set the ball down, and grabbed Tyron in a headlock, giving him a noogie. "It's not that hard, kiddo!"

" _Stop_!" Tyron laughed, prying his head away from Chris. He stepped away, grabbing the basketball off the ground.

"Okay, how about this," Chris said, moving to block him. "If you get past me and dunk it, I'll buy you McDonald's." Tyron's eyes glowed, the incentive of food tempting.

"Okay. Fine," Tyron nodded, and dribbled the ball. Chris grinned, getting ready to block him. Tyron, feigned right and went left, but Chris knew and blocked him anyway.

Tyron gritted his teeth to think for a minute. Then, he had an idea.

He threw the ball in the air as hard as he could, then rolled under Chris' arm. Just as he stood, he caught the ball and jumped.

Tyron stretched, reaching hard for the hoop, his fingers just grazing the rim. He pushed the ball in and grabbed at it, hanging from it for a second. He laughed, surprised that he did it, and let go. "I did it! I did it! I—"

Tyron hit the ground on his back, and looked up at his father. His eyes were full of anger and Tyron felt his heart race in seconds. "Take that off! You're not a fuckin' boy!!"

"Da—" his foot kicked him in his side and Tyron gasped, skidding a few feet on the ground, tears blurring his eyes.

Tyron let out a sob, grabbing his stomach that burned in agony, "Dad, I'm sorry! Please, Dad—!"

He reached down and grabbed his shirt. "You're a girl and no daughter of mine's is going to be a fucking _faggot_!" He slammed him at the counter. He was trying to get him to sit, but instead his forehead slammed into the stone.

His sight went black and he slumped against the counter, blood seeping from his forehead.

Tyron heard footsteps and then a distant gasp. "What—?! _Tatyanna_?! What happened!? What did you do?!"

Tyron raised his head, trying to stand up from the table, but the room was spinning and he felt tired and sick. It was Chris. He hadn't been out of his room since... Since he was jumped.

Tyron's knees buckled and he collasped. Chris grabbed his arms, holding him up. Tyron began to lose reality of where he was. He vaguely heard his father shout " _... Mutie freak!_ " before his eyes closed.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Tyron woke up with a headache. He groaned, holding his skull and squeezing his eyes shut. He heard someone knock at his door. "Come in," he called, covering his eyes.

Rashaad came in, walking over and lying down on his bed. Tyron smiled, and rubbed Rashaad's arm. "Ya a'ight?" He asked, glancing at the window. It was still pretty dark outside.

"I'm scared," Rashaad whispered, and Tyron stared at him, shocked. "Are we gonna get shot too?"

Tyron sighed, laying down, and looking up at the ceiling. "I can't say. People might try to shoot ya, but don' worry. I'll protect ya." Tyron smiled at Rashaad, but he didn't say anything else.

Tyron closed his eyes, wishing he has some metal to eat. Then, Rashaad spoke again. "They shot at my brother," Tyron turned to him and saw tears on his face.

"Your brother?" Tyron frowned, then it clicked. He knew this boy looked familiar when he first saw him! "Did he have big black wings?"

Rashaad nodded. "He was protecting me," he said. "My mom didn't want us anymore, so he helped me leave. Then... That guy found us, and he killed my brother." Tyron pulled Rashaad into his chest, rubbing his back. "I miss him," he whispered. "I miss my brother."

"I know," Tyron said softly, "I miss my brother too." 


	38. 38 - Be An Instigator

**Chapter Thirty-Eight:**

Going back to school on Monday was pretty bad for Tyron.

Tony had taken care of the schoolwork he needed down over the weekend, promising that it would be ‘ _just that one time_ ’, so by Monday, all he had to do was review the information he had been given to him, and rest. Luckily, Tyron was particularly skilled in both categories.

His injuries on his face didn't _look_ particularly horrible ― or at least, Natasha assured he didn't. His ribs still hurt occasionally, but felt good enough for him to be able to wear his bandages again. He would need them, especially if he was going to be in the school.

Tyron was almost hoping that when he went back to school, nobody would mention the fiasco that was the rally that last friday. Of course, this wasn’t the case.

Tyron was at his locker, putting away the books he didn’t need for first or second period when he felt someone grab his shoulder and yank him around. “Hey, _Mutie_ ,” Miles Forbes sneered in his face. Tyron narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth. “How’d your party go last Friday?”

Tyron pushed the boy’s hand off of his, turning back to his locker and putting away the rest of his books. “What is it? You had _so much_ to say on Friday, didn’t you? You _mute_ now, or are you scared someone else is going to get _shot_!” One of his friends put up a finger gun and shot at his other. The other teenager fell against the locker and rolled his eyes into his head, grasping his chest as if he were actually dying.

“ _Fuck off_ , Forbes,” Tyron growled, grabbing the books he needed and turning away, but Miles just didn’t seem to know when to quit. He knocked Tyron’s books to the floor and kicked them away. Then, he stepped right up to Tyron and got into his face. His breath was hot on his skin and Tyron could smell the scent of smoke on it ― were jocks even allowed to do drugs like that? Hell if he knew.

“I think you should watch your tone,” Miles said coolly. They were beginning to gain onlookers. The students who were supposed to be in class were now watching the group of guys, ready to see blood. “Muties like you don’t know where their place should be ― _licking my boot_.”

“I think ya need to step th’ _hell_ off,” Tyron retorted. “Before you end up on the ground ― lickin’ the floor.”

“Funny hearing threats from a little _bitch_ like you,” Miles shot back, and his boys began to cheer, eyes thirsty and ready to fight.

“It’ll be th’ last thin’ ya will hear if ya don’ go away,” Tyron said, trying to keep his cool.

“And what are you going to do about that?” Miles laughed, “Lemme guess, you can make the lights flicker or float me a few inches above the ground.” Miles puffed out his chest and stared Tyron straight in the eyes. “You don’t _scare_ me, and neither do your little mutie friends. Fact, you shouldn’t even be in a school like this, shouldn’t you be in the hood, casing a joint, or rotting in _jail_?”

“And shouldn’t ya be mindin’ ya own damn business?” Tyron shot back. “I guess we’re both out of our elements today.”

Miles glared at him, “Muties like you should be on fields, working like the _animals_ you are.”

“The only animal I see here is _ya_ , Forbes,” Tyron replied coolly. “Where’s ya cage? With ya _momma_?”

The crowd ooo-ed at that and Miles started to go a bit pink and he began to shake with anger, “You fuckin’ _nigger_!” He snapped and Tyron gave a small laugh.

“Really? The ‘ _N_ ’ word? Is that the _best_ you can do?” He said, raising an eyebrow. Miles balled his fists and Tyron knew what was coming.

Miles threw the first punch. He lunged, but Tyron moved, making the teenager stumble a few steps forward. His buddies decided to get involved too, grabbing Tyron’s shoulders and throwing his back against the wall. The first one landed a punch square in his cheek, and Tyron felt his jaw bruise. The next came between the legs, but since there really wasn’t much to hurt down there, it gave Tyron an advantage.

He pushed the first student off of him, and duck under the arms of the second. He swiped his leg underneath Miles’, who looked now ready to fight, fists high and jaw tight. He had his legs wide open ― easy take.

Miles hit the ground and his friends turned, surprised, but Tyron wasn’t. He pushed one of his other friends into Miles with hard shove, keeping both of them on the floor. He began to move down the hall, trying to get away, but the crowd of instigators were thick and nobody wanted to see him leave, not this early in the fight. Their thirst for bloodshed still hadn’t been satisfied just yet.

Tyron felt something hard slam into the back of his head, and he saw stars for several moments, falling forward and tripping over himself. He landed on the ground, belly first, and one of the guys stepped hard on his neck. Tyron choked, eyes wide and he turned over, trying to breathe right. The guys began to attack from all sides, hitting his ribs, legs, head, arms, et cetera. Tyron balled up, covering his head with his hand, but this didn’t stop them from hitting him.

It felt like an hour had passed of the abuse by his fellow classmates, until he heard the voice of teacher. “Break it _up_ , break it _up_ , _all of you_! I better not find any of you near here at all!" Someone shouted angrily, and finally, the onslaught of attacks ceased.

It took Tyron a moment, but he shakily got to his feet. His face was busted up and he felt like he'd fall at any second.

"Fuckin' mutie _freak_!" Miles sneered and then spat at him, it landed at his feet. Tyron glared at the teenager, but said nothing more.

"Mr. Forbes, go to the principal's office --- _now_!" The teacher commanded, "And the rest of you, to class, or you'll all be facing _expulsion_!" This made the students begin to move. They grumbled to themselves, but walked away anyway.

Tyron heard his name being called in the crowd. " _Tyron!? Tyron_?!" Then, arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding up. "Tyron, what's going on? What happened to you?!"

Tyron shook his head, too much blood filled his mouth. He didn't want to spit it out, knowing the reaction he might get to his silver blood. He was breathing shallowly and his body started to tilt.

"Take him to the nurse," the teacher said. "He might have to go to the hospital."

This jolted life in him, " _No_!" He wheezed, trying to pull away from Peter. "N--N-- _No_ hospital! _No_!"

" _Tyron_ \---"

"I... I said, _no_!" He snapped, and just as he said it, his eyes rolled into his head and he fell. 

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Tyron woke up to beeping and the smell of bleach. He opened his eyes slowly. The white tiled ceiling reflected too much light and it made him have to close his eyes again. He groaned, trying to move, but he couldn't. His wrists were strapped to the bed.

Tyron's eyes went wide and began to panic. The heart rate monitor soared as he began to yank on his arms, trying to escape, but having no way to do so. He couldn't move.

Tyron could fell the roles on his wrists, keeping him tied to the bed as the man above him pulled off his clothes, the look of lust evident in his eyes. "No! No!! Let m'go! Let m'go!!" Tears filled his eyes and he couldn't breathe. This wasn't happening, this wasn't happening!

"Tyron! Calm down," someone said beside him, but it was no use. He was sobbing now, scared out of his mind. He couldn't do this any more. _Kill him_! Bad pet, bad pet, bad pet, bad pet, bad pet, bad pet, bad---

"Tyron, _please_ ," they pleaded desperately. They moved, climbing on the bed to get whatever was on his hands, off.

Tyron shook his head as the man crawled onto his bed, not stopping making she contact with him, licking his lips as he pulled his legs apart. "Please, do--don'---" he wheezed, "Bad pet, bad pet, bad pet, ba---"

His hand was free, and Tyron pulled it to his shoulders, yanking and pulling at his other wrist, feeling it burn under the thick leather strapping. Soon, that one was free too.

Tyron moved away as fast as he could, trying to figure out how to breathe again. Trying to erase the feeling of them touching his body. "B--B--Bad pet, bad pet, bad pet, bad pet, bad---!"

Someone wrapped their arms around his shoulders, holding Tyron close. "It's okay," he whispered, but Tyron could hear his heart racing too. "It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay."

Tyron had to breathe for nearly twenty minutes, his eyes closed tight and his hands shaking. Peter didn't let go of him at all. In fact, his grip seemed to have gotten tighter as the time passed. Finally, he let go, but only after his breathing was steady.

"Where... Where am I?" Tyron had to know for sure.

"Hospital. I---They said it was protocol for all mutants to be restrained against their will. Mr. Duke said it was fine --- they wouldn't do anything unless you were restrained."

"What did they do?" Tyron asked.

"They tried to give you stitches, but the needle kept... Uh, _disappearing_. And, they couldn't put an IV in your arm. The only thing they could do was put you out with some gas, but even after that, nothing worked. They gave you some cream for your face, but that was it. They said you'd have to heal on your own."

Tyron slowly nodded, "And... M'guardians?"

"Your guardians?" Peter furrowed his eyebrows.

"They aren't here then," Tyron said with a sigh.

"What does ' _bad pet_ ' mean?" Peter suddenly asked. Tyron gritted his teeth, and sucked his breath, forcing himself not to repeat it back to the boy.

"I..." He swallowed, "I used to live with a mutant who had the ability to... Uh, absorb memories." Peter's eyes went wide and Tyron continued. "He... When I did something, uh, wrong, he'd... Take my memories of something good. Then, he'd replace it with that. It was kind of like brainwashing. Whenever I tried to think about something or someone, I would unlock him instead of whatever else I wanted. Then, my mind would... Ah, it would go to the things he did to me, and I..." Tyron closed his eyes and breathed. He couldn't do this right now.

"Oh..." Peter murmured.

"M'sorry," he whispered, curling away from him. He didn't want Peter to know this. Peter, who was innocent and hurt no one. Peter, who built Lego models in his free time. Peter, who chased helplessly after a girl who knew nothing about him.

This wasn't _fair_. He didn't have time for this. 

Tyron sat up and tried to move away. "Wha---Where are you going?" Peter asked, eyes wide.

" _Home_ ," Tyron replied. "If m'lucky, 'ey haven't tried to I.D. m'yet." He tried to sit up, but his ribs burned. He laid back down, closing his eyes. He just couldn't give his body a break, could he?

"Yeah, I don't think you should get up either," Peter said, raising an eyebrow. Tyron gave a stiff nod, keeping his eyes shut firmly. He couldn't stay here much longer, and he was hungry.

Tyron looked around for something metal, but it was like the doctors ans nurses knew every aspect of his mutation because he found nothing.

Tyron stomach growled, but he ignored it and closed his eyes. "Are you hungry? I can go get some food from---"

"No," Tyron cut him off, shaking his hand. "Don' worry 'bout it."

"Why not?" Peter asked. "I can just---"

"I can't eat tha'," Tyron finally admitted. He might as well rip off the bandaid. "It'll make m'sick."

Peter blinked, "Oh. Well," he rubbed his scalp and turned. "What do you eat? _Can_ you eat?"

"I can eat," Tyron frowned. "I just... I eat, uh..." He felt his cheeks grow warm. He really didn't want to explain this. Tyron swallowed his pride and continued. "I eat... _Metal_."

Peter blanked, staring at him. "Metal?"

"Uh-huh."

"You eat... _Metal_?"

" _Yep_."

"Like a _robot_?" Tyron blinked, then he laughed.

"' _Like a robot_ '?" He repeated, hysterically. His chest hurt with every breath, but Tyron couldn't help himself. He needed this. He needed to be able to laugh. 

 

Tyron wiped a tear from his eye, "Yeah, Peter. ' _Like a robot_ '."

 

Peter turned to pout, his cheeks growing red from embarrassment and Tyron couldn't help but laugh again. He looked cute like that. 

 

Tyron froze at the thought and immediately kicked himself for it. No. No, no. _No_. He _didn't_. He _wasn't_. Get that out of his head, _no_. 

 

"Do you need to call your parents?" Peter asked suddenly and Tyron almost missed what he said. 

 

"Oh, ah yeah. Tha'd be great." Peter dug into his pocket and pulled out a phone for him to use. 

 

Tyron dialed Tony's number, and of only gave two rings before answering. " _Hello_?" 

 

"Hey, Uncle Marty," Tyron said. 

 

" _Tyron_ _? Shouldn't you be in class_?"

 

"Yeah, sorry, uh, somethin' happened in school. Can ya come pick m'up?"

 

" _What happened? Are you okay_?" Tony said seriously, casualty leaving his voice.

 

"Don't worry, some guys jus' roughed m'up a bit. Look, m'in th' hospital at, uh..." He turned to Peter. "Where are we?"

 

"NYC Health, Hospitals, and Metropolitian," Peter replied.

 

"Did ya hear tha'?" Tyron asked.

 

" _Yep. On my way_ ," with that, the line clicked off and Tyron handed Peter back his phone. 

 

"Thanks," he said and Peter began to reply, but the door opened. 

 

Tyron tensed up as a police officer stepped out along with a few nurses and a doctor. Peter moved to get off of the bed quickly as they began to speak. 

 

"You can't be in here, boy," the officer grunted and Peter looked at Tyron. 

 

"S'okay. Go home," Tyron assured. Peter nodded and grabbed his bag, leaving Tyron in the hospital room by himself and these people ready to practically skin him alive. 

 


	39. 39 - Be A Victim

**Chapter Thirty-Nine:**

"Seeing as you are suspected of being a mutant, we are required, by law, to have you tested," the doctor began, stepping close to the bed. Tyron crossed his arms, glaring at them. "Do you understand this?"

 

"No I don'," Tyron replied. "Repeat tha' for me." Tyron examined the four people surrounding him. Male doctor and police officer and two male nurses. He swallowed, trying to contain his fear.

 

The doctor gritted his teeth, but tried again. "We are required by the recent law, to have to tested and registered as a Subhuman."

 

"Hmm..." Tyron shook his head, "Still don' understand." The police officer wasn't angry. He put a hand on his gun and Tyron's eyes narrowed. He could take some bullets any other time, but when was in this condition? Tyron wouldn't want to push it. 

 

"Put the straps back on him," The officer ordered, coming to his side and grabbing his shoulders. 

 

The nurses acted quickly, going to the sides and grabbing his arms. Tyron began to panic, " _No_! Get off me! Get _off_!" He screamed, his heart rising and he tried to push the man off of him, kicking his legs and thrashing.

 

"Get his feet too," the doctor ordered while the nurses were tightening it. Tyron screamed, tears filling his eyes again. No! No! _No! No!_

 

"Let m'go! No! _Let m'go_!! No! _No_! _Let m'go_!" Tyron screamed trying to twist away from him. When the nurses finally finished, Tyron could hardly move his body. His heart was beating so hard, Tyron thought it would grow wings and fly away.

 

"Now, can you take a sample of his hair, please," the doctor said, looking down at his clipboard. 

 

"Please!! Let m'go!! _Please_!! _Please_!!" Tyron screamed, terror in his voice. There were three men in here, and one woman. If something happened, he couldn't move. He would be stuck here, as they did whatever they wanted to him. They'd cut off his clothes and feel his body. They'd stick it down his throat and make him---

 

"Please someone shut him _up_ ," someone muttered. Tyron shook his head violently, as a man came over and began to wrap what looked like something between a muzzle and a gag around his neck. Tyron screamed, moving his head from side to side, hoping the man would stop. 

 

He held his head straight and forced it on him. 

 

Tyron couldn't breathe, his eyes rolled aimlessly as they talked above him, pulling at his hair and clipping his nails and catching his tears in jars. They swabbed his snot and tested his fingerprints. 

 

His stared at the ceiling, still shaking and unable to breathe. He saw darkness close in around him as his eyes fluttered closed.

 

Then, something hit him. "Can't go to sleep yet, boy," the officer snapped. Tyron shook his head, blinking away more tears. 

 

Baron stood above him, using his legs to keep him spread apart as he forced himself into him again and again. Tyron could move. He couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening. This can't--- _he_ can't. He can't be back. He _can't_! He--- 

 

**_BAD PET BAD PET BAD PET BAD PET BA---_**

 

Tyron began to convulse and the nurses stepped in, saying something he couldn't understand. Vomit sprayed past his lips and his body felt lighter than air. Someone took the gag off him, but it was no use. 

 

Tyron screamed loud and high. Then, he vomited again, but it only made him choke. Someone pushed his head to the side and it dripped out of his mouth. Tyron coughed loudly, but someone forced him back straight, taking a sample of the vomit and saying something.

 

Everything in Tyron felt blank. He couldn't move. He couldn't feel. He laid limp like the dead on the hospital bed, slightly shivering. He heard someone enter the room and starting to shout, but he couldn't understand any of it. He was so tired. He was tired of it all. He couldn't do this anymore.

 

He felt someone lift him up --- were the straps gone? Where were they taking him? He was a bad pet. Baron was going to punish him now. He was taking him to a car with two other people. If he didn't do good, he'd be shot later.

 

Someone set him down and shook his shoulders, Tyron didn't move. If he moved, Baron would beat him. He couldn't get hurt anymore. He didn't --- he couldn't --- he wasn't a bad pet. He _wasn't_ a bad pet. 

 

Someone said his name, and Tyron slowly looked over. Baron was going to hurt him if be didn't get to work. He had to work. He was going to die if he didn't. 

 

Tyron began to take off his clothes, but someone held his hands. Tyron began to panic. He had to. He _had_ to! Baron was going to beat him if he didn't work!! No! No! _No_!!

 

Someone pulled him tight and Tyron was shaking. He _couldn't_ be a bad pet!

 

He began to cry, he couldn't do this! He couldn't take any more punishments! He kept trying to take them off. If he didn't make enough money, Baron would kill him! They stopped him again, angry this time. Tyron moved away, scared. No more. No more. No---

 

"---Tower?" Someone suggested.

 

"In... Shock," Someone else said. 

 

"---Sleep---"

 

"--- _Needles_!"

 

"--- _Terrified_!"

 

"Yelling---"

 

" _PTSD_ \---Trigger---" 

 

Tyron kept trying to pull off his clothes, but someone was holding his hands away from him. Tyron jumped, trying to pull away, then froze. He was going to get hit for that. He had to make up for it. He didn't---

  
"Calm---"

"What do we---"

" _Quiet_!"

Tyron held his breath, too scared to move. This many people, they would kill him if he did something wrong. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't---He couldn't---

"---Hungry?"

Tyron shook his head, holding back a sob. No _eating_! No _metal_! If Baron found out he ate, he'd cut out his tongue! _No! No! No!_

"---Sleep---Tired---"

Tyron inhaled, no no, stay awake. Sleeping while he was being rented was bad _pet bad pet bad---_

"Breathe---Slow---"

_Bad pet bad pet bad pet bad pet---_

"C'mon kid---Scaring me---Breathe---"

_Bad bad pet bad pet bad bad pe---_

" _Trauma_ \---"

"---Know!"

"--- _Sleep_!"

Tyron tried to breathe, he had to breathe. He _couldn't_... He had to... He...

Tyron swayed, his head spinning. He fell forward, gasping and shaking. _Breathe_ , he, breathe, can't---

Someone laid a hand on his shoulder. Tyron screamed, curling up, moving away. Escape. Run. _No_. Baron. _Pet_. Touching. No. _No_!

"---Messed up!"

"---Touch---Scream---"

Tyron wanted to vomit again. He couldn't. He would get in trouble.

" _Swallow it_!" Baron hissed, " _Swallow it all!!_ "

" _Water_ \---"

"He can't---"

"---Shock---enough---"

Tyron shook as the car sped and finally came to a stop. They the car and someone opened his door.

They tried to pick him up gently, but Tyron screamed. _No! No! No_! Please! _No more_! He was too tired! He couldn't do it anymore! No! No!!

"---Okay---It's---"

" _Hurry_!"

They grabbed him and ran. Then, Tyron was in the air for a minute before being consumed by water.

Tyron flailed his arms and legs kicking desperately to get to the surface. He couldn't swim! He couldn't _swim_!!

Someone grabbed his hands and pulled him out. Tyron coughed and vomited out disgusting, polluted sea water. " _Tyron_?" Someone said hesitantly.

" _Wha'_ \---?" He coughed, cutting himself off. "Where am I?"

Suddenly, someone was hugging him tight, and soon everyone else followed. "You were in shock. But, we couldn't touch you to help you and you weren't listening," Tony explained quickly. "You kept trying to strip and then you weren't breathing and then you were screaming---"

"M'cold," he muttered, shivering.

"We threw you in the Hudson," Natasha explained.

Tyron just nodded, trying to get up, but his head was pounding and he didn't want to move. "M'tired," he mumbled.

"We're going home," Tony assured. Tyron nodded and the others helped him back in the car, closing the door. They handed him blankets and a few towels, and Tyron wrapped himself in them.

He stayed quiet the entire way back to the tower.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

 

Tyron sat on his bed, thinking about Baron and the memories he exposed. He remembered all of his memories with Baron. It made him sick to even think about them. 

 

Someone was knocking. "Come in," He called. The door opened. It was Tony. "'Ey," he greeted, looking back up at the ceiling. Tony sat down on the edge of his bed. 

 

"I scheduled your first appointment," Tony said finally. Tyron nodded, he knew this was coming. "Tomorrow afternoon. It's kind of a diagnostic thing, okay? Nothing too deep, too serious yet. And, if you ever feel uncomfortable, I'll pull you out, okay?"

 

"Got it," Tyron muttered, not taking his eyes off the ceiling. Tony sighed and fell back on his bed. 

 

"You really did scare us," Tony said gently. 

 

"I know," he murmured. He remembered his screams as they tightened the strapped to the hospital bed. The cold sweat trickling down his face, his tears that burned his eyes. 

 

He closed his eyes and breathed. "You know, even after this, you can still talk to us," Tony told him and Tyron swallowed hard.

 

How in the world would be tell Tony how it felt to be tied to a bed or to a hook in the ceiling? How could he tell him how it felt being completely naked and at the mercy of sometimes a group of five to ten horny men looking for a little fun? How could he tell Tony how it felt to actually feel like he wasn't human, like they described people like him on the news and on TV? How could he tell him that for nearly two years, he had no more value, of less than a cow who gave sweeter milk? 

 

Tyron swallowed, "Ya wouldn't understand," he murmured. Nobody would. " _Trust me_."

 


	40. 40 - Be A Psychiatrist

**Chapter Forty:**

Tyron entered the room hesitantly. He was twisting his fingers and he looked anywhere but where he was supposed to. The room wasn’t tight, but Tyron did not feel comfortable at all coming here. “He--Hello?” He called, looking around.

Suddenly a closet door opened and someone stepped out. It was a tall lanky man with brown rimmed glasses and freckles covering his face. He had light brown eyes and a mess of brown hair. He looked at Tyron and then smiled, “Hello there!” He greeted. He was holding a few very thick looking books, but he tried to put his hand out anyway. “You must be. . .?”

“No names,” Tyron said immediately. The man rose an eyebrow, a bit confused. “I, uh. . . I. . .” He looked down at his hands, “Safer for m'tha’ way. No names.”

“Well, that’s alright,” He assured. “I’m Doctor Bekinghall, but everyone calls me Dr. Bek. Is it alright if I give you a nickname? Just so we can have something on record?” Tyron nodded. “What about. . . _John Doe_? It’s the name the police and other law enforcement uses when they can’t identify someone.”

Tyron rose an eyebrow, “ _John Doe_?”

“Is _Johnny_ better?” Tyron scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning away.

“Sure, why th’ ‘ell not. _Johnny_ ,” Tyron shook his head at the thought, but Dr. Bek beamed.

“Well, then, Johnny, why don’t you have a seat,” He said, motioning to a chair that was parallel to a coffee table. Tyron nodded and moved to sit down, pulling his phone out and placing it in front of him. Dr. Bek scrambled to put his books away for a moment before coming to a small table at the other side of the room. “Do you want anything to drink? Coffee or tea?”

“Water is fine,” Tyron said, and the man nodded. He pulled a small pitcher out of a mini-fridge, and poured Tyron a cup of water. He set it in front of Tyron with a coaster underneath.

Tyron didn’t touch the cup. He glanced out the window where a bird was perched on a small bird feeder. “So, Johnny, what brings you here today?” Tyron shrugged and Dr. Bek chuckled, “Maybe we can start off with actually looking my direction?” It was a suggestion, but Tyron obeyed anyway. He turned back to the man and twisted his fingers. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Do _ya_?” Tyron retorted, and immediately felt a bit bad. He was just doing his job, and Tony was paying for him to be here ― for him to be able to talk to someone who wouldn’t judge him.

“From what your guardian told me, I’m here to listen to you talk,” He said and Tyron gave a small nod. This was already going off on a bad start. He should just go home while he still had the chance to. “I can already tell you’ve got a few things brewing in that head of yours.”

“Yeah. . .” Tyron muttered, looking down, “I, uhm, I had a long week, last week. I. . . I jus’. . .” Why was this so _hard_?

“Let’s start with a few simple questions okay?” Tyron nodded, “How old are you?”

“I turn seventeen in a few weeks, I think.” Dr. Bek nodded, scratching something down on a notepad.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“ _Currently_?”

“Any at all?”

“I had an older brother. He left us a while ago.” The man nodded again.

“Your parents?”

“Wha’ ‘bout 'em?”

“What’s their marriage status? Married, divorced, et cetera.”

“Uh, widowed. M'Mom died in the Incident.”

Dr. Bek looked up at him, his eyes full of sadness, “I’m sorry to hear about that. My daughter died as well.” Tyron nodded, tapping his foot and staring down at his glass of water. “How did you father take this?”

“He. . .” Tyron swallowed. “Uh, he. . . figured himself out.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“ _Fuck you_!” His father screamed in his ear, his voice slurred and smelt like drugs and alcohol, not a great combination. He hit Tyron with the wooden bat again and again. Tyron whimpered from each strike, trying desperately to cover his head. “ _Ya the fuckin’ reason Anita died! Dumb bitch! Go to hell_!”

“He didn’t take it well,” Tyron said softly. He could hardly remember the man who used to throw him in the air and call him his little princess, despite how much Tyron disliked the term.

“Were there any signs of domestic violence?”

“He didn’t take it well,” Tyron repeated, gritting his teeth. Dr. Bek wrote something else down, and continued speaking.

“We’ll move on from that for now,” He assured, and asked something else. “Are you in school?”

“Yeah.”

“What grade?”

“It’s. . . _complicated_.”

“Do you mind explaining?” Tyron shrugged.

“M’pose to be a senior by now, but things happened, so m'not.”

“What grade are you in?”

“A little bit of everything,” Tyron admitted. “I take senior level math, but m’in freshmen history, an’ junior english. Sometimes, I join the freshmen classes when the teachers teach a certain topic, but not in all of their classes. It’s weird.”

“It’s interesting,” Dr. Bek said, “Do you think it’d be easier if you were just homeschooled?”

“I–I couldn’t,” Tyron said quickly. If he stayed in one spot, Baron would’ve dived on his ass. Being in school, in an territory that wasn’t even his, it was perfect. Besides, if he stayed holed up in the tower all day, he might have gone crazy.

“Why?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Tyron bit his lip. This was such a waste of money. Why did he come if he wasn’t even going to talk!? What would he tell Tony?

“That’s perfectly fine,” Dr. Bek assured. “It’s the first session and we have an hour of time to kill, if you don’t mind my metaphor.”

“I don’,” Tyron assured, and Dr. Bek continued with his questions.

“How are your current living conditions, I assume you live with your guardians?”

“Better,” Tyron said immediately, “There’s food and heat and it smells a lot better. And, they don’t make me―” Tyron cut himself off, catching himself. “I–I mean, they, uh, they’re cool.”

“They don’t make you do, what?”

“I don’ have to do a lot of chores,” Tyron lied immediately. “It’s better than at home, I always had to clean an' shit, it was hard.”

“Of course,” Dr. Bek nodded and Tyron watched nervously as he began to write again. He wanted to know what the man was writing down. It was making him upset. “Do you have any friends, Johnny?”

“Yeah, I have Peter and Ned, and I think Michelle, but that’s it.”

“Nobody else?” Tyron shook his head. "And are there any complications there too? Any bullies or rude teachers?"

"'Ere's 'is one guy, _Miles Forbes_ ," Tyron said, shaking his head. "But, 'e's jus' a kid. Tried to beat m'up wit' all 'is buddies yesterday."

"Did he win?"

"Yeah, but only 'cause I couldn't—" he cut himself off. Then, he bit his lip, turning away. If he was going to be and talk to someone, he needed to make the most out of what Tony was paying for.

Dr. Bek was waiting, watching him carefully, "Should we move on?" He asked.

"Nah, I... I was gonna say tha' he only won 'cause I... I didn't use m'mutation." Tyron felt his heart race as soon as he said it and he watched Dr. Bek, waiting for him to jump up or shout or accuse him of something he probably did but couldn't remember.

He just wrote something down and then looked back up at Tyron. "Do you mind elaborating on what your mutation is?"

"Yes," He said immediately. Even if he didn't have his name on record, if he had his mutation there and people had a vague idea what he looked like, he would be in trouble. "I don' wanna talk about it."

"That's alright," he said and wrote something else down. "Now, how long have you been staying with your guardians?"

"Uh..." Tyron frowned, "Six, seven months?"

"And before that you were with your parents?"

"Uh, no," he said. "I... I was..." Tyron squirmed, trying to breathe. "I was in a gang."

Dr. Bek rose an eyebrow, "A gang?"

Tyron nodded, "M'not _anymore_. I got out."

"Was it hard?" Tyron remembered the day he woke up after being raped by those three men. His fingers were broken and his wrist sprained. He was hardly able to dress himself, much less escape. It was a miracle he even got out!

"Yeah. I... I—yeah, it, uh..."

" _Suck it hard_!" The man demanded, forcing Tyron to his knees. Tyron shook his head no, and the man hit him, hard. " _Suck! Now!"_

"What did they do that—?"

"No. No, not answering that," Tyron wrapped his arms around him, closing his eyes and trying to breathe clearly.

"It's okay, we'll move on," Dr. Bek said, and then motioned to Tyron's water. "Take a drink."

"M'kay," Tyron said, picking up his cup. His hand still shook from the memory and Tyron forced himself to hold it steady.

"I have something to admit," Dr. Bek spoke, and Tyron looked up as he sipped the water. "I put a little bit of a calming supplement in your water. It's nothing big, it's just to soothe the nerves." Tyron nearly spit it out. He slammed the cup back down, making the water sloshed over the edge. His eyes were wide and he waited for the effects of his mutation to take hold.

Nothing happened. No hallucinations, no cries, no spinning sensation, nothing.

Tyron turned back to the man, who had been writing all this down, "You lied to me," he accused angrily.

"And you responded with fear," the man replied, looking back at him. " _Why_?" Tyron gritted his teeth and leaned back in his chair. "I apologize for lying to you, but I wanted to gauge your reaction. Even though I said it would just be something to calm down, you were still scared.

"Course I was scared," Tyron scoffed, "I thought I was bein' drugged!"

"Is that all?" Tyron looked away, biting his tongue. "You know, you're here to talk to me. I cannot, by law, repeat back anything you said to me in any way shape or form. If you don't feel comfortable telling me what it is that is bothering you today, well, then we'll always have other sessions."

"Then, can't I tell ya then?" Tyron asked, curiously.

"You could, Johnny, you could. But, if we don't scratch the surface today, then it'll be a lot harder to break the ice tomorrow." Tyron thought about that for a minute, understanding what he meant. "Are you ready?"

"'Ere are still somethin's I don' wanna talk 'bout," Tyron admitted.

"Then, let's scratch the ice. Just a few questions. That's it." Tyron nodded agreeingly. " _Good_! Where was I...? Oh! Right! Why were you afraid to drink the water?"

"I... Uh..." Tyron swallowed, scratch the ice, right? "M'mutation makes it so I can't, uhm, eat food... I can only drink water, so th'–th' supplement would've made m'sick. I was scared of gettin' sick."

"And is it just like... A headache, swelling, or a stomach bug?"

"S'more like hallucinations, vomiting, and fever symptoms. Dependin’ on how much I eat, it could last from a few days to a few hours."

"Wow," Dr. Bek said, surprised. "I can see why you'd be scared."

Tyron just nodded, looking back down at his hands, and then up at a fancy digital clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes ― they still had forty-five minutes of this. He didn’t think he would be able to give a detailed account of what happened without having a freak-out. Even the thought of it made his stomach churn in disgust.

It must have shown on his face because Dr. Bek spoke up, “What are you thinking about?” He asked.

“I--I, uhm,” He swallowed, “It’s nothing.”

“Scratching the surface,” He reminded gently, and Tyron bit his lip. “If you don’t feel comfortable, then―”

“No, I. . .” He sighed, “I was thinkin’ ‘bout how I might. . . I, uh, wouldn’t feel comfortable if. . . if I told you about some things that happened to me. . .”

“That’s okay,” Dr. Bek assured, “Would you be able to generalize it? So, it’s not as detailed?”

Tyron thought for a moment, but nodded, “In. . . In the gang, I, uh, I was forced to carry out. . . jobs for the leader, Baron,” Tyron explained, slowly. “Sometimes, I had to. . . he made me scare people straight, ya know? Or. . . or uhm, kill them.” Dr. Bek nodded, watching him as Tyron rubbed his hands slowly, as if he could clean the blood dripping off of them. As if he could scrub them hard enough for it to go away.

“How did that make you feel?” Tyron heard Dr. Bek asked, but he felt as if there were cotton in his ears. He sounded far away and Tyron couldn’t exactly hear him properly.

“I. . . I—uh, I. . . I didn’t like it. I. . . I didn’t want to, but he. . . he would. . .” Tyron kept rubbing at his hands. “If I didn’t do what. . . what he said, he’d. . . he’d shoot me.”

Dr. Bek’s eyes widened, “He’d shoot you?” He repeated, and Tyron nodded. “Have you had to get surgery in order to treat these wounds?”

“No. . . ‘cause of m’mutation, bullets and knives and other things made of metal, ‘ey, uh, don’ hurt me. But, if I get shot, it still hurts like it would if a bullet would to hit ya.”

“So, you’re bulletproof, but you still feel the bullet?” Dr. Bek summarized and Tyron gave a noncommittal shrug. “ _Interesting_.” He wrote some more on his notepad, and Tyron glanced curiously at it.

“Wha’ are ya writing?” Tyron asked, watching his hand move as he wrote.

“Notes. Things I think of you.”

“Like wha’?”

Dr. Bek rose an eyebrow, “You want to know?” Tyron nodded, and he went to the top of the page. “‘ _Patient doesn’t want to be called by his given name, may have issues with authorities or other people who might want to find him. He doesn’t want my information of him to fall into the wrong hands. Cannot keep eye contact for too long, may have had problems with authorities or suffered from verbal or physical abuse. Confirmed, physically abused by father, who probably was hurt by wife’s and brother’s death. Disassociated for five minutes. Very_ ―”

“What does that mean?” Tyron asked, cutting the man off.

“Hmm?”

“‘ _Disassociated_ ’. Wha’ does tha’ mean?”

“Let’s exchange,” Dr. Bek suggested. “I’ll explain what that means, and you tell me what your mutation is.” Tyron frowned and Dr. Bek shrugged, “We can go back to questions if you don’t want to.”

Tyron thought for a moment, but then remembered what Dr. Bek reminded for him, scratching the surface. He nodded, “Fine. But, you can’t write it down, okay?”

“Okay,” Dr. Bek agreed, putting his notepad down on the table, upside down so Tyron couldn’t see what was written on it.

Tyron looked around. He saw a metal ballpoint pen on his desk. He came back to the table, unscrewed it, and took the inkwell out. Then, he put it back together, somewhat. “Okay,... now, don’, uh, freak out, a’ight?”

“Of course,” Dr. Bek said, and then Tyron ate the pen. His eyes went wide and his jaw slackened, “ _Wait_!” He cried, but it was too late. Tyron swallowed it and placed his hand on the table. He concentrated the metal there and soon his fingertips were metal. It wasn’t enough to turn his entire hand metal, of course. He formed them into claws and lightly tapped the table. “Oh. . .” Dr. Bek said, a little bit surprised. “That’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” Tyron said, and put the claw away, leaving his fingers metal. “It works faster and more instantly if I absorb it, though.”

“Amazing,” he awed, and Tyron looked away, feeling his ears burn. Nobody’s ever called his mutation amazing. He didn’t quite know how to respond.

“Th. . . thanks,” He repeated. “So, uh, now s’ya turn.”

“Right,” The doctor nodded. “Disassociation is when someone. . . disconnects from the rest of the world. It’s usually found in PTSD victims or people with extreme depression. It’s usually a way for them to make sense of reality, so they kind of step away ― it’s like a way to process. But, sometimes, victims can experience vivid flashbacks that might cause an panic attack.”

“Ya sayin’. . . I did tha’?” Tyron asked, his eyes wide.

“For five minutes, yes. You weren’t responding to anything I asked you, so I waited. Soon enough, you did come through and we continued our session.”

Tyron blinked, “Can tha’ happen anytime?” He asked, his eyes wide.

“Well, it really depends,” Dr. Bek said. “If prompted, it might trigger it, but things like response times definitely have a factor that goes into how soon you can recover.” Tyron looked down, a little startled about this new information. “Don’t worry, we can talk through it, usually psychotherapy ― what we’re doing right now ― helps get through that.”

“Uh-huh,” He said, squirming in his seat, and looked back up at the clock. Thirty-five minutes left.

“Is there anything you want me to know?” Dr. Bek asked, and Tyron shook his head.

“Nah, uh, m’good,” He said firmly.

“Okay, then, we’ll continue with the questions, then.” He looked back at his notes. “Are you dating anyone?” Tyron nearly jumped and Dr. Bek smiled.

“No, no,” He said quickly. “No, I–I uh. . .” He coughed.

“It’s okay,” Dr. Bek smiled. “Do you mind if I ask if you’ve been in a relationship recently?”

Tyron looked away, “Yeah.”

“Did it end badly?” Dr. Bek asked, and Tyron nodded.

“He died a few weeks ago,” Tyron said softly.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dr. Bek said.

“Yeah,” Tyron cleared his throat, and then he remembered Peter. The way he comforted him when he was having another ‘ _freak-out_ ’. The way his cheeks start to burn and annoyingly adorable shade of pink whenever Tyron teased him.

“Is there. . . someone else?” Dr. Bek asked carefully.

“No,” Tyron denied. Peter wasn’t even gay! He. . . that wouldn’t be possible. He needed to get his act together. “No, I. . . m’jus’ bein’ dumb. S’nothin’.”

“There’s nothing dumb with the way you feel,” Dr. Bek comforted. “Do you wanna talk about them?”

“I. . .” Tyron sighed, covering his face, “‘Ere’s this guy, right? He’s. . . he’s adorable, but. . . I don’ jus’ wanna jump on ‘im, not after. . . ya know. It’s been so soon. I loved Pietro, but I don’. . . I don’ wanna replace ‘im.”

Dr. Bek nodded, understandingly. “May I give an analogy?” He asked and Tyron nodded, a bit confused. “After we lost my daughter, Abygale in the Incident, my wife and I were devastated. She was our only child and we loved her and we always will. A year later, my wife gave birth to my son, Andrew, he’s three now. We still think about my daughter all the time, and we still love her, but we have to move on. Maybe, you can do the same? You still love Pietro will all of your being, but life will keep going, and if you wallow in the past, you’ll never have the chance to see the future.”

Tyron nodded solemnly, “But, it doesn’t matter anyway,” Tyron said with a shrug. “‘E’s not gay.”

“Have you asked him?”

“I know,” Tyron said, thinking of the many, many times he mentioned Liz and what she was wearing or what she was doing or how she had her hair that day. It was a borderline creepy, but Tyron knew his intentions were good.

“You should try anyway,” Dr. Bek said. “Some people are subject to change, especially teenage boys.” Tyron let out a scoff and leaned forward to take a sip of water. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

Tyron rose an eyebrow, “Ya say tha’ like we’re almost done.”

“Well, we do have five more minutes,” Tyron frowned, looking up at the clock, they had a half hour! “Oh!” Dr. Bek laughed, turning around, “Sorry, that’s not a clock. That’s a clock,” He pointed to the opposite wall, behind Tyron where a analog clock hung silently. He was right ― they did only have five more minutes.

“Then, wha’ s’tha’?” Tyron asked, pointing to the not-clock.

“That is the temperature ― it’s in celsius. I’m from Europe.” He chuckled, turning back around. “My clients usually think it’s a timer or a clock or something. That’s why I sit over here, so they don’t worry over time.”

Tyron shook his head, “ _Funny_ ,” He said and stood up.

“We haven’t finished, Johnny,” Dr. Bek said, raising an eyebrow. Tyron sat back down, and Dr. Bek looked back down at his notepad. “This was supposed to be a diagnostic session. Just to, like we said, scratch the surface. I know there’s a lot you aren’t telling me, and I know that from what you did tell me, there is much more to the story. I want to get to know you, Johnny. I want to help you. But, next time, we need to be able to be more transparent with each other. I know, there are some things you just aren’t comfortable telling me, and that’s fine, that’s perfectly okay. But, I just want you to know that you can trust me. I’m here for you. I am not able to legally tell anybody about this exchange between us and what you say, so the only thing holding you back is you. Alright?”

Tyron nodded, feeling a bit guilty. “Yeah, sorry, I–I understand.”

“No reason to apologize. I just want this to be as comfortable as possible. You can talk to me here, that is my job after all.” Tyron laughed and then Dr. Bek stood up. Tyron followed and Dr. Bek held out his hand so Tyron shook it. It was a little awkward, but he made do. “It was nice meeting you. I look forward to seeing you again.” Tyron picked his phone up off the coffee table. He had shut it down before he came so he wouldn’t get distracted. He powered it back up so he could call Tony.

“Thanks, ya too,” Tyron replied and made his way toward the door. He walked out of his office and to the sidewalk. They were in northern Manhattan with all of the hipsters and gentrification. Tyron unlocked his phone and called Tony.

He picked up on the second ring. “ _Hey, you done_?”

“Yeah, m’waitin’ outside,” Tyron replied.

“ _Okay, Happy will be there to pick you up. How’d it go_?”

Tyron thought for a moment. There were only a few people in this world who knew that much about him ― and none of those people had been complete strangers. Tyron smiled and nodded a bit. He was proud of himself, a little, at least.

“Good. It went good,” he said confidently.


	41. 41 - Be An Identity

**Chapter Forty-One:**

Tyron had his hands outstretched as Rashaad dribbled the ball back and forth. "C'mon, take a shot," he teased the boy who frowned and then ducked under his arm, and aimed for the basket.

Tyron was fast, moving down and hitting the ball away just before it reached the rim. It bounced a few feet before rolling out of the court. Rashaad ran to go get it shot a stink eye at Tyron.

"This ain't fair," he mumbled. "You're tall."

"Want me to go easier?" Tyron asked and Rashaad huffed, shaking his head. He came back on the court and Tyron defended, his arms blocking Rashaad's movement. "C'mon, there's always a way out," Tyron said, watching the boy as the gears began to twist in his head. " _Think_."

After a minute, he moved. He feigned right and pushed his way under Tyron's arm. Then, he aimed up his sights with the basket and shot. It landed, teetering around the rim before conceding and falling in.

" _Aye_!" Tyron grinned, slapping him on the back before he could grab the ball. "Nice work, kid."

"Thanks!" Tyron smiled and held his hand out.

"Let's take a break. Ya want food?" Rashaad nodded, and Tyron tossed the ball into the basket on the other side of the room. The simulation was over and Tyron pried the headset off his head.

"Lemme text Tony an' tell 'im wha' I think, then we can go up an' eat." Rashaad agreed and jumped off the couch to go to his bedroom. Tyron continued to text the billionaire his results.

To Tony from Tyron: **'the graphics gave me a headache,' he wrote. 'but it's realistic so cool.'**

To Tyron from Tony: ' **What about the layout? How did it feel**?'

To Tony from Tyron: ' **well...** **it felt like a real court and the physics were tight. it** **didnt** **lag or anything so is that good**?'

To Tyron from Tony: ' **Fine for now. I'll get more info later. Thanks, kid**.'

To Tony from Tyron: ' **np**.'

Tyron put the translucent phone away and Rashaad came from his room. While they were in the simulation, he decided to wear athletic clothes, just to make it look realistic. Now, he was back to his huge shirt with a company name Tyron didn't recognize and baggy sweatpants. They definitely had to be washed soon — they had began to smell.

"Ya good?" He nodded and Tyron stood, "Cool. C'mon," he walked to the elevator and a minute later, it came.

Tyron and Rashaad rode it to the penthouse and he stepped out to go to the kitchen. "So... What do ya want?" He asked. He was pretty sure Tony had whatever Rashaad would think up, but this was proven wrong. He asked for pancakes. _Fresh_ pancakes.

" _Pancakes_?" Tyron frowned, crossing his arms and Rashaad nodded eagerly. Tyron sighed, "Okay, fine, fine." He went to the pantry to gather the materials and brought it to the counter. Rashaad sat across a from him, practically bouncing in his seat as Tyron stirred.

A few months had passed since the rally. Nobody wanted to keep the campaign going, not after what happened in New York. After the attack, Congress decided to revise the bill, saying that only people eighteen or older had to be registered. Anyone younger who had a criminal record was also to be registered too.

Tyron had to admit, this helped a little, but it also made him nervous. It was like setting a timer on his life. Tyron turned seventeen a few months ago, and after that, he would only have so much more time to live without fear of being taken away and imprisoned, despite living with Tony and the rest of the Avengers.

His classmates weren't helping this anxiety much either. Peter and Ned were being really supportive, although Ned was a little hurt he didn't tell him sooner. Michelle was being helpful in her own way, since she had an inkling of the things Tyron was going through at the moment. The teachers were also trying to be as supportive as they could, but they were a bit uneasy around him, and Tyron really couldn't blame them. They were indoctrinated with the belief that all mutants are evil. When they are Tyron, a hard-working kid who wasn't trying to sell drugs or rob a bank, they were a bit confused.

With the exception of those people, everyone else was trying to make Tyron's life _hell_. Someone scrawled ' **MUTIE** '  in bold black ink on his locker. Someone else tried to trip him during lunch. They whispered about him, would throw their trash at him if he wasn't being careful, and tried to get him in trouble.

Tyron knew his stay in Midtown High was precarious. The only reason he chose the school was because of it's security, and Baron wouldn't suspect him going to a white school. Usually, you'd have to test into this schools, but Tony made a few arrangements so he got in despite not being at the same level of everyone else.

Tyron tried his best to stay well-behaved, especially after the Rally, just in case the administration decided to kick him out. He stayed caught up in his work, which was probably the hardest thing to do, but Peter helped him. And, most of all, he didn't show his mutation. If he tried to blend in, despite everyone knowing that he was a mutant, then nobody would try to get him kicked out.

Tyron let out a sigh and began to flip the pancakes on the stovetop. They were a golden crispy brown and Rashaad clapped eagerly. "Uh-huh, yeah, clap all ya want. S'a good thin' m'nice, kid." He muttered, putting it on a plate before pouring the rest of the batter.

Rashaad reached over to touch the pancakes, but Tyron slapped his hand away. "What are you two doing?" Steve asked, coming down the hall. He was in sweats and a white tee shirt, which had been soaked through.

"Pancakes for Rashaad," Tyron said, flipping the other and letting it sizzle.

Steve rose an eyebrow. "I thought you hated cooking. Didn't you say it smelt like garbage?"

"Yeah. It does. Still does," Tyron said, scraping the bottom of the pancake off the pan and sliding it onto the plate. "Eat up, kid."

Tyron moved and put the pan in the sink, spraying cold water on it and watching it sizzle as it cooled down. Steve stepped over as he wiped it clean before sticking it in the dishwasher. "So... I was thinking," Steve began.

" _Really_?” Tyron said, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“You’re taking too much after Tony,” He mumbled and Tyron laughed, then reached into one of the drawers across the counter labelled, ‘ **FOR TYRON** ’, and picked up a small rusty metal pan.

He took a bite and looked at Steve, waiting for him to continue. “Right, so, I was wondering. . . what’s your _real_ name?” Tyron blinked, and Steve continued. “From what I know about transgender, at least what Tony and the others explained, you were born a girl, but you decided to be a boy ― which is perfectly fine, I don’t mind that. I was just curious what your _given_ name was? I mean, it can’t have always been Tyron, right?”

“ _Why_?” Tyron asked, suddenly suspicious.

“No reason,” Steve replied. “I was just curious. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I wouldn’t look at you different if you did ― I’d never do that ― but I was just thinking. . . I mean, if we wanted to open up more to each other, maybe you would tell me your name?”

Tyron frowned, taking another bite out of the pan, obviously stalling. Steve wasn’t making him say anything, and Tyron really didn’t want to say anything, but the Avengers were his family now, and he did want to be more transparent with them. What did Dr. Bek say again? " _Scratching the surface_ "? He wanted to be able to share things with them, he’d be living with them for a while now.

“Why do I smell _pancakes_?” Tony said as he walked through the door into the kitchen. Then, he glanced at what was left on Rashaad’s plate and grinned at him. “Didn’t save me any?” He teased, messing with the younger boy’s hair. Rashaad tried not to smile and gave a tough look, but Tyron could see it shining through and chuckled.

“I made pancakes for ‘im,” he explained, just putting the rest of the ingredients away and closing the door. “Sorry, jus’ missed out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony shrugged, and sat at the barstool counter. “So, you said the simulator was. . .” he took out his phone and glanced at it. “' _Overstimulating but realistic_ '?”

“What simulator?” Steve asked looking between Tyron and Tony.

“Jus’ a device Tony made,” Tyron said. “S’like that VR headset, but a lot smaller, but it’s more condensed ‘cause of it. Maybe make th' screen wider?” He suggested to Tony, who nodded, and began to type it on his phone. “And, the lightin' did look a little buggy, now tha’ I think ‘bout it. Th’ shadows didn’t look right in some places.”

“Yeah, that might be the automated shadowing program that I have. It’s not usually accurate which might cause a few bugs like that. I’ll have to refine the program,” Tony said, as he typed. “Anything else?”

Tyron shrugged, “Not that I can think of. Wha’ do ya think, kid?” He looked at Rashaad to turned to Tony and gave two big thumbs up. Tony grinned and nudged him playfully.

“Thanks kiddo,” He said sincerely. “That helps. Maybe, the next program will be flying? Or _dragon_ _fighting_?” At the sound of the mythological creature, Rashaad beamed, nodding eagerly. “Flying it is!” Rashaad pouted and frowned pointedly at Tony, who only laughed in response.

Tyron smiled and shook his head, taking another few bites of his food. “You didn’t answer my question, Tyron,” Steve said and Tyron looked up, cheeks full of metal.

“Right!” He said and finished eating, “Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked away, a bit embarrassed. “S’Tatyanna.”

“Who’s Tatyanna?” Tony asked.

“M’given name,” Tyron said and then shrugged. “But, nobody really knows m’by tha’ anymore.”

“It’s a pretty name,” Steve said and Tyron nodded.

“I know. I might name m’kid tha’, if I have kids,” He shrugged. “Anythin’ else? I was hopin’ to stop by th’ court down in Queens? Now that Zion an’ Baron’s out, s’a lot safer on th’ streets.”

This was true. It wasn't hard to find illegal weaponry, drugs, and other things of contraband on both of their estates. Even though Zion allegedly bought all his businesses and buildings legally, they were still seized and the dealers we arrested.

“Sure, go ahead,” Tony said and Tyron grinned, glancing at Rashaad.

“Ya comin’? He asked the younger boy who smirked and nodded. Tyron knew he wouldn’t come out on the court to play, he wasn’t very athletic in that sense, but he did like to watch Tyron play, and Tyron didn’t want to leave him out all together.

“I think I’ll come too,” Steve said and Tyron rose an eyebrow. “What?”

“Change first,” he scolded and Steve rolled his eyes. “Meet us ‘ere in ‘bout twenty minutes, then we all can head out.” Tyron turned to Tony and rose an eyebrow, “Don’ s‘pose ya wanna come too?”

Tony scoffed, shaking his head. “ _Please_! Last time I went was already bad enough! I’ll stay here, maybe send a drone after you to see how the games’ going.”

Tyron laughed and gave a quick nod, then he grabbed Rashaad’s empty plate, rinsed it, and placed it in the dishwasher. “C’mon, ‘Shaad,” He said, waving the boy over. “I’ll see ya down ‘ere in twenty, Steve.” He made his way to the elevator and stepped inside.

Steve waited until the doors closed before he spoke. “He’s changed a lot since we first found him,” he noted.

“A lot happened. It’s been nearly a year,” Tony shrugged and stretched. “Besides, wouldn’t it be more worrying if he didn’t change in a year’s time? I mean, a year ago, he would never agree to seeing a shrink.”

“A year ago, he’d never tell us his name,” Steve agreed and Tony nodded, standing straight. “Let me go get ready. Tyron doesn’t lie when he says to be here in twenty minutes.”

Tony chuckled and stood, “Have fun playing ― what does he call it? ― ‘ _B-Ball_ ’.” Steve laughed and Tony waved as he left the kitchen.


	42. 42 - Be A Secretary

**Chapter Forty-Two:**

Tyron was sitting in class in the middle of a test, bored out of his mind. He tapped the edge of his pencil against his temple, thinking as he stared blankly at the test. He knew the information, but he was getting distracted. The Avengers were out on a mission in Nigeria and he wanted to join --- he knew he could help --- but they refused.

Tyron knew he had already missed enough school days, with the Ultron incident, and then the Rally, he was close to have to take go through summer school, but he managed to bring in some lame excuses to show to his administrator so she could dismiss it.

He sighed, rubbing his temple. If something bad happened, something he knew he could've prevented like one of them getting shot, he would be upset. But, there's nothing much he could really do now. They were five hours away and he really had no way to get to Nigeria. They were probably in the middle of carrying out the mission now.

"Fifteen minutes!" Tyron's teacher announced and he looked back at his paper, scribbling his three sentence answer. He managed to throw some fancy words to make it sound like he knew what he was talking about, and continued to the next few questions.

If Tyron kept worrying about what was happening with them, he'd never get anything done. Today was Friday, and next week school let out for spring break --- which he would most likely spend studying for upcoming finals.

Tyron finished the last two questions just before his teacher announced quite loudly, "Time's up! Pencils down! Pass your tests forward." Tyron was following the very easy instructions when suddenly, two dozen phones began buzzing and beeping at once. Tyron turned to his own, a very advanced one, thanks to Tony.

Displayed across the front from his _Avenge-Watchers_ app read, " **BREAKING NEWS: Explosion in Lagos, Nigeria involving the Avengers**." Tyron paled and nearly dropped his phone altogether. He saw Michelle glancing at him from the side of the room, her eyebrow raised, but he shook his head.

The other students read the same, or similar news titles on their phones. After the Incident and Sovokia, everyone either had a news app or the Avenge-Watchers, an app that followed strictly the Avengers' movements and what they were doing. Sometimes, it was stupid things, like someone saying they saw Thor in a cafe in New Jersey, but other times, in times like this, it was serious.

The news spread quickly and the class began to get rowdier by the second. "Settle down, settle down!" His teacher, Ms.Glades said, shushing the teenagers. "You all know the cellphone policy! Put them away or they will be confiscated!"

Tyron gave the News title one last glance before putting his phone back in his pocket. He'd look at it between classes and see what really happened. He'd try to call Tony, but Tyron knew he was at an event today and not in Nigeria with the others. Natasha or Sam would be better.

The class seemed slow as hell as he impatiently waited for it to be let out. He saw a few kids sneak glances at their phones and immediately had it taken away. He wasn't taking any chances.

Finally, the bell rang and Tyron jumped and pulled his phone out in one fluid motion. The fact that he had no new messages from anyone made him a bit upset, but he tried not to worry about it. Peter and Ned came up beside him as he frantically typed in his phone.

 **To Steve from Tyron:** ' _whats_ _going on?? are you guys OK??_ '

No response. Tyron frowned and copy-n-pasted the same message in their group chat, to each individual, and again to Steve, but still didn't receive a message.

"What's wrong?" Ned asked, glancing at his phone screen, but Tyron turned it off and put it back in his pocket. "You seem mad."

"M'good," he assured and grabbed his bag, hurrying out of the room. "Jus' stressin' over nothin'." Neither boy looked convinced, but Tyron sighed, he couldn't do anything about that.

Tyron knew the backlash they received after Sovokia. This would only add onto the overweight disagreement of the keeping of the Avengers.

Tyron tried not to think of it. If he did for too long, it would show and be didn't want to give any unwarranted information. Most everyone at the school knew he was a mutant, but they didn't know what his ability was, or that he was an Avenger. If he kept that part secret, he'd still be able to hold a part of him... Well, private. He wasn't ready to show the world every small aspect, not yet.

He followed Peter and Ned to lunch, they were arguing something about _Dungeons and Dragons_. Peter tried to introduce Tyron to it, but he was still pretty confused on all the aspects, which was understandable. It was a complex game.

Then, his phone buzzed, and Tyron stopped in his tracks, staring at his screen. Sam texted back.

 **To Tyron from Sam:** ' _No injuries. Finishing clean up and rescue then coming home_.'

Tyron's shoulders sagged in relief and he replied a quick ' _okay. thanks, be safe_ ', before putting the phone away.

" _Hey_! They have burritos today!" Ned said, suddenly remembering the announcements read that morning, and the atrocious smell of the food.

Tyron rose an eyebrow, "I'll catch a seat, y'all hop in line," he told them and moved towards the lunch tables, saving the end seats, usually the most wanted ones --- it provided the best leg room --- and resting his head.

He wondered how Rashaad was doing in their middle school class, and if he had gotten the same mass message. Would he be scared? Just as nervous and a bit terrified as Tyron was?

Tyron sighed. He rubbed his temples again. He was thinking too much. He'd just go to the Tower --- or, more likely, the Avengers compound upstate --- and find out the full extent of what happened. He wanted to be more involved --- Tyron was wondering if he could take a nursing class, like Clint suggested. A field medic could be very useful, especially in incidents like that.

Tyron straightened as the boys came back. He'd fine out everything he'd need to know soon enough.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Tyron hurried down the long hall of the compound with Rashaad on his heels. He was Steve and quickly gave him a hug, before looking around him at to see where the others were. "Wha' happened? S'anyone 'urt?"

"Everyone's okay," Steve assured. "Don't worry." Rashaad pushed past Tyron and grinned at Steve. Steve smirked and messed up his hair, "Hey, kiddo," he greeted. "How are you?" Rashaad gave him a thumbs up. "Good! Do you two want anything to eat?"

Tyron frowned, he wasn't very hungry, but he knew Rashaad was --- that boy was always hungry. He sighed, going to the barstool counter, and Steve handed him some strips of metal and Tyron accepted it, but only nibbled.

He glanced around as Sam walked into the room. "Hey, Tyron! What's up, man?"

"Nothin' much," Sam held out his hand for Tyron to shake and he did. "Thanks for textin' m'after th' attack," he said with a grateful smile.

"No problem," he nodded, and glanced at Rashaad, who had been watching Sam curiously. "Hey, what's up, dude?" Sam smiled, holding out his hand for Rashaad to take.

"Rashaad, this s'Sam Wilson," Tyron explained. "The _Falcon_." Suddenly, Rashaad's eyes lit up at the sound of the name and he nearly fell out of his seat trying to stand.

Sam caught him with a loud laugh. "Are you okay?" He asked between chuckles. Rashaad just nodded hopelessly, and scrambled to find his footing once he was securely on solid ground, he hugged Sam around the waist. Sam laughed and wrapped his arms around Rashaad.

"Ya actually his favourite, ya know," Tyron smirked and Rashaad nodded, conforming this.

"Why's that?" Sam asked, looking at Tyron. Rashaad needed no more questions. He pushed his wings out, which he usually kept hidden between his jacket, and unraveled his tail from his pants leg.

Sam's eyes widened as Rashaad's bat-like wings came into view. Tyron smiled and Rashaad was beaming. "That's... That's _amazing_!" Sam finally said, still gawking at the wings.

Rashaad could have fainted with joy. Sam got up, and soon the two were in the deep end of a conversation. Sam would ask yes-or-no questions, and Rashaad eagerly answered.

Tyron smiled and leaned back. Tony was going to move his entire company upstate soon, so Tyron decided that he and Rashaad would move up here during the summer. Rashaad was still young, and there were more schools in Northern New York willing to except someone like him, whereas Tyron would probably spend his next few years amounting the money he would need to move away from Tony on his own.

Tyron knew Tony had more than enough money to buy him whatever, wherever he wanted, but Tyron didn't want to be completely dependent on him. He wanted to do things his way, and when he turned eighteen, he would be targeted and forced to be registered and catalogued as a ' _Subhuman_ '. If Tyron could buy his own place before that came to fruition, he would be able to keep himself and Rashaad safe.

Tyron would have to live underground for a while. He knew Canada had a pretty lax policy on mutants, and although the thought to go there did cross his mind, it would be a bit hard to blend in, and Tyron didn't know if his body could take such cold winters. The idea of being lost in a snowstorm with Rashaad and then getting too rusty terrified him.

Tyron sighed, rubbing his temples. He would need to draw up a plan and fast. This would probably be his last year in school, and although the knowledge he learned while there was invaluable, he couldn't waste time sitting behind a desk. He could almost feel the government practically salivating at the thought of getting their hands on someone as deadly as him.

Since spring break was coming up the following week for both of them, Tyron decides to spend the week at the compound. There was more than enough for Rashaad to do, and Tyron needed to take the time to think about what he wanted to do with what was coming soon.

"'Shaad, come eat," he told the boy and Rashaad hurried to the table. He gave Steve a thankful look as he pulled out his backpack, getting his spring break work done sooner than later. Surely, Rashaad would want to play later --- whether it be flying in the secluded field or swimming in the indoor pool. Tyron didn't see himself having the time to get this work out of the way anytime soon.

He sighed, stretching and rolling his shoulders as Rashaad practically devoured three whole peanut butter-and-apple jelly sandwiches --- Rashaad was allergic to grapes.

Tyron grinned, "Slow down, before ya choke," he teased, nudging his arm. Rashaad frowned, but complied. After Steve had fixed his fifth sandwich, Rashaad pulled away, and tugged in Tyron's arm. Tyron smiled, looking at him. "What's up?"

Rashaad jabbed a thumb at the window and his wings fluttered a bit. Tyron knew what he wanted. Rashaad hardly got the chance to stretch his wings in the city. Now that they were in the country, he wanted to make the most of it.

Tyron glanced back at his homework, but then at Rashaad's big, yellow-tinted eyes. He sighed, "Sure, why not. Wash ya plate an' put on ya tennis shoes." Rashaad ran, grabbing the plate from the counter and vigorously scrubbed it in the sink.

Steve watched, raising an eyebrow. "I could take him outside, if you want to finish your homework," he commented, but Tyron shook his head at the tempting offer.

"Nah. He'll want to play discs, an' it'll be less of a trouble if I do it." Discs was a game they made up. Tyron would throw three metal plates in the air, but two of them had lines attatched to them. Rashaad had to grab the one without the line before all three hit the ground.

Suddenly, a thought occurred, "Where's the others?" He asked.

"Their rooms," Steve replied and Tyron nodded, feeling a bit more assured knowing that they were on the compound.

Tyron grabbed the half-eaten pan and absorbed the rest of it into his skin. Just then, Rashaad came bounding over, and Tyron smiled, leading him outside.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

 

They were deep in the throws of their game when Tyron noticed Tony flying over head in his suit. Trailing him, was a similar, bulkier one, probably Rhodes. Rashaad, who was hovering mid-air, gave a silent wave, but neither of them seemed to notice.

 

Then, ten minutes later, a larger armoured vehicle made its way down the paved drive. " _Rashaad_!" Tyron hissed and the boy came down quickly, hopefully out of sight of the strangers. Tyron absorbed the metal discs hanging from his fingers and grabbed Rashaad's hand firmly. "C'mon," he urged and they quickly made their way back to the compound. 

 

Tyron's heart was pounding as he quickly ordered Rashaad to go to their room. It was down the hall, nowhere near the main entrance, so Tyron prayed he would be fine.

 

Tyron passed the kitchen just as a man came down the hall. He was tall and white. He had neatly combed back, black and white hair and a grey mustache that looked like a mountain that lost it's peak. He wore a dark blue suit and a black tie with his arms crossed over his chest.

 

Tyron's eyes flicked between the man, who had almost looked familiar to him, and to the two men behind him, who were soldiers with handguns at their waists. 

 

The man's eyes narrowed at Tyron and he rose a challenging eyebrow. "Who th' fuck are ya?" He asked, keenly aware of his silver arms, ready to morph into a knife at any given second. 

 

The old man gave a subtle sneer and sat straighter. "I don't have to answer to a mutant. And a child nonetheless." 

 

Tyron rose his hand and a sharp knife formed from his wrist. "Ya would answer if 'ere was a knife at ya fuckin' throat." He wasn't afraid of this man. The men behind him, however, came to attention. They drew their guns and pointed it at Tyron. 

 

The man rose his hand for them to back down and took a step towards Tyron. "I've heard a lot about you. What's was your... _Mutation_ again?" He said, the word as if it were a disease he could contract by just speaking it aloud. "Something... _Freakish_ that turned your body to metal?" The man got closer until they were only feet apart. "How long have you been this way?" 

 

Tyron kept his mouth shut, his hands practically itching to plunge themselves into his chest. "Not so talkative now, are you? Whatever happened to you cutting ny throat?" He mused. "I think that would warrant an arrest and sent to a Subhuman Detainment Facility, don't you?" He looked down at Tyron --- even though they were almost the same height --- his eyes full of something Tyron couldn't recognize. It made his skin crawl and he held his breath as the man watched him. Almost interested. Almost greedily. 

 

_Bad pet bad pet_ \---

 

"---Take much to put mutants like you in their place." He was back at the counter again, almost bored. Tyron, however, was trying not to show his struggle to breathe. 

 

Tony strode into the room and Tyron shifted the knives back to his hands. "Stark," the man greeted firmly.

 

"Ross," Tony replied with just as much unenthusiasm. He glanced behind him where Tyron was, "Tyron, can you bring the others in here?" 

 

Tyron didn't hesitate. He moved swiftly down the hall and knocking on Natasha's door. It opened a minute later, and she rose an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were here," she said, but then realized his slightly disheveled state and knitted her eyebrows together. "What's wrong?"

 

He stepped into her room and took a shaky breath, running a hand through his freshly cut hair. "I..." He paused, and shook his head. "M'sorry. I had a freak-out," he finally said. "Can I jus' sit in here an'...?" Tyron didn't have to say anything else. 

 

"Do what you need to do," Natasha assured, and Tyron nodded. Then, he remembered Tony's request. 

 

"Ah, there's someone 'ere for y'all," he said, and rubbed his temple. "Tall, ol' white dude wit' combed back salt-n-pepper hair an' triangle mustache?" Natasha nearly smiled at the strange description, knowing that that could really be anyone. 

 

Then, the smile vanished as a person in particular came to mind. With the recent incident in Lagos, the only man, the main man that would want the Avengers shut down. 

 

"Come on," she said, and Tyron stood. 

 

"Wha's up?" He asked, eyes wide. 

 

"You'll want to be here for this," she said, and led him out of the room, and back into the kitchen. The man was talking to Steve, Wanda, and Vision. Behind him, Sam and Rhodes were coming down the hall. Tony was sitting at the couch, where everyone seemed to be standing around. When they saw the pair coming, they migrated to the conference room beside the kitchen, and closed the door behind them.

 

"Who is he?" He whispered, narrowing his eyes at the man's back. 

 

"Secretary of State, Thaddeus Ross," Natasha replied as she took her seat. "He's anti-Avenger and anti-mutant." She looked at him, as Ross got himself situated, connecting his device to the smart television. "Most likely, he's here to split up the Avengers."

 


	43. 43 - Be A Threat

**Chapter Forty-Four:**

Tyron waved at the departing jet that next morning with Rashaad at his side. The rest of the Avengers were going to Europe for the next few days to attend a funeral, and so Natasha could go to the signing of the Accords in Vienna.

Tyron would've came, but planes make Rashaad nervous and he refused to get near one. Wanda offered to watch him if he wanted to go himself, but Tyron didn't want to leave Rashaad by himself, especially after the Accords were introduced.

Tyron turned to go back inside when they could no longer see the jet, but Rashaad grabbed his arm, frowning. "Wha'?" He asked and the boy motioned to the field. "We gotta play later --- I have work to do."

"I'll play with him," Wanda offered and Tyron looked up, surprised. "What does he want to play?"

Tyron glanced down at Rashaad, who made a sign of throwing a frisbee. "He wants to play Discs."

"How do you play?" She asked, but the Vision spoke up.

"Maybe we should all go inside?" He suggested, "It is forecasted to rain this afternoon."

Tyron glanced up at the clouds that were admittedly heavy. He shrugged at Rashaad who poured immediately. "Maybe she'll play ball wit' ya," Rashaad didn't say anything and Tyron tugged gently on his chin. "I can't change th' weather, kid. If I could make it not rain, then it wouldn't be rainin' today." Rashaad still wasn't pleased, but Tyron decided he'd get over it soon.

"C'mon," he nudged the boy, and begrudgingly, he went back in the house.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Tyron sat on his bed, filling in the answers in his math packet. Rashaad was taking a nap beside him, occasionally flitting Tyron with his tail or hitting him with his wing. Tyron had played Mario Kart with the boy and helped him build a base foundation for his Legos before having to go back to work. Rashaad was tired after and decided to snuggle up against him. Soon, he was out.

There was a gentle knock at the door. "One minute!" Tyron called, checking on Rashaad, who was still dead asleep.

Tyron got up and went to the door, closing it softly behind him. Vision was watching him curiously, "Sorry. Rashaad s'asleep. Wha's up?"

"Well, I am aware you do not eat," Vision began. "But, I wanted to know if Rashaad was hungry? Wanda is fixing a snack, and she asked me to see if he would like any?"

Tyron smiled, "Yeah, sure. I'll get him up." He turned back to his room, and in seconds a groggy Rashaad stood next to him and yawned. He sniffed and his superb senses led him down the hall, straight to the kitchen.

Wanda was making a veggie tray, and smiled up at Rashaad. "Hello," she smiled. "We were going to watch a movie. Did you want to join us?" Rashaad nodded and reached for the vegetables, but his hand hovered, waiting for her permission. "Go ahead."

Tyron smirked and turned around. "Well, m'gonna go back to m'room," he said, but Vision moved in front of him.

"Maybe you would like to bring your schoolwork out here?" He suggested. "That way, we are all together."

Tyron knitted his eyebrows together, but saw no harm in it. He could just put in ear buds as the movie played. However, the way the android suggested it... It didn't exactly sit right with him. "Yeah, fine," He nodded. "Lemme grab m'stuff."

Vision nodded, and Tyron left down the hall. He came back minutes later with a few school books, a phone, ear buds, and a laptop. He scattered these items on the coffee table, and began to set up.

In minutes, he was working, listening to music as the others watched a movie. A few hours and a couple texts to Peter, consulting his intelligence later, he had finished.

Soon, it was time for dinner, and Wanda whipped up a very nice looking cooked chicken and tossed salad. Rashaad nearly ate all the chicken, and he would've if Tyron wasn't there. Once he finished, he practically passed out, snoring lightly at he table.

Tyron rolled his eyes, "Thanks, Wanda," he said gently, picking the lightweight boy up.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Wanda asked and he nodded.

"Yeah, I'll eat after he's in bed, don' worry." Tyron nodded goodbye to Vision and carried Rashaad back to the bedroom.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Everything was perfectly fine for the next couple of days. Rashaad ate food, flew and ran around outside, came back inside to sleep, then repeated the process.

Sometimes, Tyron would join him. Sometimes, Wanda and Vision would. Vision would also fly around, playing a funny game of tag with the boy.

Tyron had the news on as background as he finished typing up an English paper. Rashaad was playing a board game with Wanda and Vision in the other room. Tyron promised to join as soon as he finished writing the paper for class.

He only had a few paragraphs left when suddenly, the television began to blare. Tyron looked up, to see ' **BREAKING NEWS** ' displayed across the title. Then, the news anchor began to speak.

" _In Vienna, Germany just moments ago, an explosion was recorded at the United Nations Conference. It is chaos, we don't know how many are dead or wounded. First responders are on their way, but everyone inside is_ _recommended_ _to get to stay where they are due to the now compromised structure of the building_."

Tyron stared at the television, his heart thundering. Natasha was in there.

He looked around frantically for his phone, but it wasn't on his bed. "Fuck!" He swore loudly, dropping to his hands and knees, still unable to find it. " _Fuck_!!" He snapped.

He stood, hands laced over his head, and began to pace. Was she okay? What if she died? Was she hurt badly? Did anyone die? Of course people died, it was a fucking _explosion_.

Tyron bent over, looking under his bed, his hands shaking. The news seemed to get louder and louder. "... _Several news band affected, and many are badly wounded. The culprit has not yet been found, however the police have discovered footage of a man leaving the building in a news van. They identified him as James Buchanan Barnes, commonly known as the Winter Soldier. He was also responsible for the fall of SHIELD a couple years ago._ "

Tyron froze when he heard the name. He learned about him in class. Wasn't he Steve's best friend?

" _Several bodies have been identified_ ," the news anchor continued and Tyron held his breath. " _Including King T'Chaka, leader of Wakanda. His son, T'Challa is unopen to questions at this time_."

Tyron tried to breathe steadily, if Natasha was dead, someone would have said it, right? He found the remote, and began flipping to other news channels, seeing if they were saying anything else.

The door opened and a smiling Wanda and Rashaad stepped in. "He won," She said and Rashaad grinned proudly.

"Good job, kid," Tyron said to Rashaad, but then looked seriously at Wanda. "There was an explosion at the signin' in Vienna a few minutes ago. D'ya have ya phone?" Wanda, stunned, stared at the television, tossing her phone to him.

He turned swiped it open, found Natasha in her contacts, and called her. The first call went to voicemail but she picked up on the second.

"Are you okay!?" Tyron demanded. "What happened? They're saying Steve's friend did it, is that true?"

" _Calm down_ ," she assured. " _Yes, I'm okay, just a few cuts and bruises. We were attacked, but I'm sure you know that too. We're not positive that it was Barnes, but the video footage was too similar to give up the lead_."

Tyron nodded, "Okay," he said softly, thankful the woman was alive.

" _Good, I have to go_."

"Get home safe," Tyron said. "And alive, if you can manage it."

Natasha chuckled, " _Sure thing_." Then, she hung up.

Tyron sighed, falling back on his bed, but his head hit something hard. He reached up to grab it, and found his phone, which was hidden in the folds of his bed.

"Is she alright?" Wanda asked as Tyron scoffed, throwing the phone at his pillows.

"She's fine. Just cuts and bruises," he said, noticing Vision now standing at the doorway, watching the television. Tyron sighed, putting a hand over his eyes.

"Maybe a dessert will cheer everyone up?" Vision asked awkwardly. "Tyron, Mr. Stark left one of his older suits here for you, if you wanted it."

Tyron's eyes lit up, " _Seriously_?" His mouth watered at the thought. Last time, it was delicious, like someone provided a steak dinner for him.

"Seriously," Vision repeated, and Tyron turned the television off, and they all migrated to the kitchen.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
Tyron was content until the following morning when he woke up, his phone was blowing up with Avenge-Watchers news. When he finally opened up the app and.saw the headlines, he gasped.

Rashaad stirred beside him, hitting Tyron with his tail, and frowning. Tyron swallowed hard, his eyes scanning and re-scanning the news. This couldn't be true. They had to be lying.

Steve and Sam were now criminals, on the run with James Barnes, the same man who allegedly blew up Vienna.

This was _bad_. Vision, Tony, Rhodes, and Natasha signed the Accords. They would be forced to take Steve in, along with anyone who associated with him. Tyron had nowhere to go, not with Rashaad always around him. If they took Tyron in, they'd take Rashaad too. Tyron couldn't do that.

He picked up his phone, going through his contacts. Who could he call that would be willing to hide Rashaad for a few days.

The name glowed out at him and Tyron suddenly felt his stomach twist. He was his only option. Tyron had nowhere else to turn to.

He dialed Dr. Bek's number.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

  
" _I'm sorry... Can you repeat that for me_?" The man said, a bit groggy.

"There's some... Complications goin' on 'ere," Tyron said again. "I might have to leave, but Rashaad can't come wit' me. He's only twelve an' he's well-behaved. I just... If ya could look after 'im until I get back?"

" _How long will that be_?" He asked, curiously and Tyron blew out a sigh.

"I honestly don' know. Look, I'll pay ya, if ya want. I jus' can't have 'im 'ere... He's too young, an' if somethin' happened to 'im 'cause of me..." Tyron closed his eyes, breathing again.

Dr. Bek was silent for a long minute. " _Is he a mutant?_ "

"He has wings an' a tail. But, they're easy to cover up. He knows how to," Tyron insisted and Dr. Bek was silent again.

"Alright. _Bring him over. I'll text you my address_." Tyron practically melted in relief, thanking the man profusely. " _When will you be here_?" He asked.

"I dunno. I'll text ya when m'ready," Tyron said. "Thank ya, Doc. I really appreciate this."

" _As long as the kid is safe_ ," Dr. Bek said. " _That's all that matters._ " Then, he hung up.

**\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -**

 

Tyron had Rashaad pack his things quickly. And, although he complained, he did as he was told. Tyron got a text from Clint, as he helped Rashaad pack. He hasn't been able to talk to him much after he retired. 

 

**To Tyron from Clint** : ' _Picking you and Wanda up. Be ready_.' 

 

Tyron sent a quick, ' _OK_ ', and told Rashaad to hurry. As he was finally zipping the bag up, there was a knock at the door. 

 

Tyron was fast, taking the bag and shoving it under the bed. He turned to get the remote and turned the television on. It was more need about Steve and Sam being missing. "Come in," he said, and Vision fased through the door. 

 

Tyron felt his heart jump to his throat at the sight of the andriod. He forced himself to calm down. "'Ey Vision, wha's up?" He asked, sitting on his bed. He turned to look at Rashaad, who was watching Vision nervously, his leathery wings twitching every now and then. "Rashaad, can ya clean up ya Legos?" Tyron asked. The Legos were across the room, farthest from the andriod that Tyron could get him. 

 

Vision watch Tyron suspiciously. "It's very clean in here," he commented and Tyron shrugged. 

 

"We only got a few days left, then we're back down at th' Tower," Tyron said, half-truthfully. "Wha' do ya need?" 

 

"I'm sure you've heard the news about Captain Rogers," Vision said, stepping in and glancing warily at the television. Tyron turned it on mute and walked around the large bed. 

 

"I got a notification this mornin'," Tyron replied. "Are ya gonna go over to stop 'em?"

 

Vision glanced up, "You would want me to?"

 

"Not really," He admitted. "But ya did sign, so ya gotta do what ya gotta do." 

 

"And what of you and Rashaad?" Tyron narrowed his eyes. "You were quite adamant on how mutants and enhanced individuals would be treated had we signed the Accords."

 

"I'll figure somethin' out," Tyron said simply. "I don' think ya would let us leave anyway?" It was a question. Was Vision really willing to fight Tyron? He wasn't sure if he could absorb vibranium, but he'd be willing to try. 

 

"Not if you're planning on leaving," Tyron gritted his teeth, walking to the side of the bed where the metal frame was. He pressed his leg against it, absorbing the metal. Vision noticed and heard the bed creak from a quick failing support. "I don't want to hurt you, Tyron." 

 

"An' I don' want Rashaad gettin' in th' middle of this."

 

"We can protect both of you," Vision said. "It doesn't have to end in a fight." 

 

"If this," Tyron motioned to the building around him. "Is ya idea of protection, then ya can count us out." Tyron saw his yellow rock glow and he winced, feeling the energy inside it. 

 

" _Vision_?" Wanda called from down the hall. Then, the door opened, and Wanda watched the two of them, an eyebrow raised. "Uh... What's going on?" 

 

"Nothin' Wanda," Tyron assured. "Vision jus' wanted to know wha' we were up to." Tyron forced a chuckle. "We must've been so quiet, he probably thought we left. _Right_ , Vision?" 

 

Vision was silent for a long moment as everyone looked at him, waiting to see what he would do. 

 

His gem stopped glowing and he nodded briskly, "Yes. I was... _Worried_." 

 

Wanda, still slightly confused, shook her head, "Well, come on. I reheated the paprikash from last night, and fixed it as well. It should taste much better." 

 

Tyron rose an eyebrow and saw Rashaad eyeing him nervously. He nodded and Rashaad stood, coming to Tyron's side, hugging his arm. They all left his room, tensions still high between the mutant and the android. 

 

Tyron sat on the couch, eating a long strip of metal. It was around dusk when the bright light of an explosion occurred in the field outside. "Rashaad, go to our room!" Tyron ordered, standing up. Rashaad did as he was told, racing down the hall, and closing the door to their room.

 

"What was it?" Wanda asked, and Tyron came to her side. 

 

"Stay here, please," Vision ordered and fased through the door. 

 

The room was quiet for a beat, then Wanda turned around abruptly, a knife whizzing through the air. Tyron's arms were metal ready to fight, but then they both froze when they realized who it was. 

 

Clint was in the doorway and he moved the knife that was literally millimeters from his face away with ease. "Guess I should've knocked," he said wryly, stepping forward. 

 

"Ya said ya'd text when ya were close," Tyron scolded, annoyed. 

 

"I saw Vision. Didn't think it was safe."

 

Wanda turned to Tyron, bewildered. "What are you talking about? What is he doing here?" 

 

Clint made a face, "Disappointing my kids," he said honestly. He shot two arrows on both sides of the room. He grabbed Wanda's hand and waved Tyron over. "I'm supposed to go _waterskiing_. Cap needs our help. Come on."

 

" _Clint_!" Tyron froze, all the hairs on the back of his neck rising to attention. He turned around to see Vision, who did not look pleased at all. "You should not be here."

 

"Really?" He scoffed. "I retire for, what, like five minutes, and it all goes to _shit_."

 

"Please consider the consequences to your actions," Vision continued. 

 

" _Okay_... They're considered," Vision stepped forward and was caught between an electrical forcefield generated by his arrows. Clint turned back around, ushering Wanda away. "Okay, we gotta go. It's this way." He and Tyron ran to the door.

 

"I've caused enough problems," Wanda said guilty, staying behind. Tyron looked exasperated and Clint ran back.

 

"You gotta help me, Wanda," he said quickly. "Look, you wanna mope, can go to high school. You wanna make amends, you get off your ass." He glanced at Vision, paling slightly. " _Shit_." Tyron ran as Vision broke free of the force field. Vision punched Clint to the ground, making him skid. He groaned, muttering to himself, as Tyron faced the android.

 

Vision fased through him as he swiped at him with his bladed arms in key areas. Clint got up, trying to help, a baton in his hand, but that did no good too. Vision pressed against Tyron shirt, pushing him so hard he flew, landing across the room in the glass coffee table. It shattered under him and Tyron groaned. 

 

When he looked back up, he had Clint in a headlock and his gem was glowing, pointed at Tyron. Tyron got off the glass table, ignoring the smaller shards in his arms, but kept his distance. 

 

"Clint, you can't overpower me," Vision said to the struggling man in front of him. 

 

"I know I can't. But she can." Wanda was behind him, her hands creating a sphere of blood red energy that was the size of a basketball. 

 

"Vision, that's enough. Let him go. I'm _leaving_ ," Wanda said as the energy ball only got bigger. 

 

"I can't let you," Vision said, and Wanda's hands came slightly apart. Vision grunted, but Clint was released from his grasp, falling to the ground. Tyron could see the yellow gem now a tinted red. 

 

"I'm sorry," she whispered gently. 

 

"If you do this... they will never stop being afraid of you," Vision warned straining, his limbs twisted at ugly angles.

 

"I cannot control their fear," Wanda said, stepping closer. The pulsing ball of energy getting bigger and more threatening. "Only my own."

 

Wanda pushed all the pent up energy into Vision and he dropped. Vision flew through the ground and was out of eight, creating a scarily deep hole where he was. Tyron steered far away from it, coming to Clint's side. 

 

"I gotta get Rashaad," Tyron said, "He's gonna stay wit' a friend'a mine's. Can ya take m'there?"

 

"We'll have to hurry," Clint said, and Tyron nodded. That was all he needed. 

 

He ran down the hall, and opened the door. Rashaad was on the bed, looking scared. "C'mon. We gotta to hurry." He slid to his bed, grabbing the duffel bag of clothes and enough money to last him a while. "Let's go."

 

With Rashaad in one hand, and the bag in the other, the four of them left the compound.

 


End file.
